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If 1 

^tory of R( 
^i an Amer 

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nh/ersity Bon 1854 / Providence, Rl 02912 

Martha Mitchell 
University Archives, Copy 
5 of 10, Box A 

Non-profit Org. 

Permit No. 611 

Vermont 05401 , 

I .Jfiiijfijciytil 


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Under the Elms h 

Gee takes 500 students to a 
movie . . . Life on a Jupiter 
moon? . . . WBRU, news station 
of the year. . . A Pulitzer for 
a playwright. . . A whiz kid in 
D.C. . . . and more. 


Here &Now 


Carrying THE Mail 




The women have arrived 



A Woman of Honor 

By Julie Fci-Fiw Biihcr 'gS 

In Class 


Taking on Cm- Hall 
By Tom Still 



Conjcdemles in the Attic 
by Tony Horwitz '80 
Reviewed by Chad Gaits 

Recouering Bodies 

by G. Thomas Couser '77 Ph.D 

Reviewed by Lori Baker '86A.M. 

The Classes 




Finally. . . 



By Augustus A. llliitc III '57 

A Hope in the Unseen 


Cednc Jennings '99 arrived at Brown from an inner-city high 
school and got an unexpected lesson in survival. By Ron Suskiiid 

The Ecological Detectives 42 

Robert Halley '71 Sc.M. and Steven Miller '76 are helping 
rebuild the ecology of south Florida. Can they succeed? 
By Nonttdi! Boucher 

The Year of Thinking Dangerously 48 

Novelist Thomas Mallon '73 recalls the turmoil that shaped his 
freshman year and changed Brown forever. 

My Mother, My Loss 


Sociologist Lynn Davidman explores the ways in which adoles- 
cents deal - or fail to deal - with family death. By Anne Difftly 

Portrait: Nobody's Fool 


For almost half a century, Ahce Ruyter Drummond "50 has 
been playing quirky characters from Hollywood to Broadway. 
By Lisa l]\ Fodcraro 'S3 

cover: Cedric Jennings '99 in front of Sayles Hall. 
Photograph by John Foraste. 

Volume 98 ■ Number 5 
May/June 1998 

Here & Now 

Telling Tales 

I ' ive years ago, author and critic 
JL Thomas Mallon '73 spoke at one of 
Browns popular Saturday Coninience- 
ment forums. By the time he stepped 
onto the stage, a crowd of twentieth- 
reunion baby boomers had filled List 120, 
the auditorium where my dormmate and 
I had once furiously scribbled notes dur- 
ing Professor Kermit Champa's lectures 
on French Impressionism. 

Tom's topic that day in 1993 was tam- 
ily history as revealed by the sort ot pro- 
saic artit'acts many folks store in their 
attics. After his father's death, Tom had 
been given boxes containing canceled 
checks dating from the beginning ot his 
parents' postwar marriage. He spent 
months digging through them, and then 
used the information to reconstruct a 
narrative of his parents' lives together - 
the down payment on the tract house, the 
doctors' bills, the car payments. Tom's was 
a typical middle-class childhood of the 
1950s and 1960s, replete with baUoon-tire 
bikes and Dick and Jane readers. We 
laughed as he sketched familiar genera- 
tional details; in the end, some of us cried, 
moved by his account of his father's illness 
and death - all revealed by those mute, 
canceled checks. 

Last winter Tom came to Brown to 
excavate an especially tumultuous year in 
his life: 1969-70, our freshman year, a time 
when small-town kids left home and ran 
head-on into the social and political fer- 
ment on American college campuses, fer- 
ment that, at Brown, had helped produce 
the brand-New Curriculum. 

In his essay "The Year of Thinking 
Dangerously" (page 48), Tom, whose 
recent books have been historical novels, 
wryly posits his freshman self as a sort of 
Age of Aquarius antihero - a sanctimo- 
nious grind who took all his courses for 
letter grades and voted against the May 
strike. As he combed through old Brown 
Daily Heralds in the archives last winter, 
Tom would drag selected volumes to my 
office. Together we'd howl at the pho- 
tographs of our contemporaries in flared 
bell-bottoms and John Lennon glasses, at 
the notices of sit-ins, Zero Population 

Growth meetings, and folk concerts at the 
Rubicon coffeehouse on Thayer Street. 

But we also recalled just how scared 
and out of place we had felt at Brown. 
Many of our classmates were prep-school 
graduates from backgrounds of consider- 
able wealth. For the first time, we white 
suburban kids encountered large numbers 
of blacks and a smattering of Asians. Most 
jarring of all, at Brown so many students 
were really sinan; our high school honor- 
roll laurels meant nothing. 

The memory of that fish-out-of- 
water feeling helped me appreciate the 
more profound culture shock experi- 
enced during his freshman year by Cedric 
Jennings '99, the subject of "A Hope in 
the Unseen" (page 34). As several of us on 
the 6.4 MstafT sifted through a proof copy 
of reporter Ron Suskind's new book of 
the same name, we found ourselves pulled 
into Cedric's journey from the ghetto to 
the Green. It was almost impossible not to 
fall in love with this principled young 
man, to feel your heart break as he met 
discouragement along the way, to cheer 
out loud when he aced a calculus exam. 

As this issue of the BAM goes in the 
mail, Tom Mallon is preparing to cele- 
brate his twenty-fifth reunion, and Cedric 
Jennings is about to embark on a national 
publicity' tour for Suskind's book. Each 
man's story is extremely clifferent, yet 
both recall the heady intellectual adven- 
ture and the hard work of self-discovery 
undertaken by all freshmen, everywhere. 


Annb HinmAn DiHiLY '73 



May /June 1998 
Volume 98. No. 5 

Editor Anne Huiman DifHly '73 

Managing Editor Norman Boucher 

Art Director Kathryn de Boer 

Assistant Editor Chad Gaits 

Business Manager Pamela M. Parker 

Editorial Associate Torri Still '97 

Contributing Editors Shea Dean '92, 

Peter Mandel '81 a.m. .Jennifer Sutton, 

Karen Wargo 

Pliotography John Foraste 

Design Sandra Delany. Sandra Kenney 

Administrative Assistant Sheila Cournoyer 

Board of Editors 

Chair John Monaghan '55 

Vice Chair Dana B. Cowin '82 

Tom Bodkin '75, Anne Azzi Davenport '85 

Eric Gertler '85. Jonathan Karp '86, 

Karen Leggett-Abouraya '72, 

Edward Marecki '6s, Peter Bernstein '73. 

Annie Tsui Ogata '84, Stacy Palmer '82, 

Ellen Rosen '79, Eric Schrier '73, 

Lisa Singhania '94, Benjamin Weiser '76, 

BiUWooten '70 Ph.D. 

Local Advertising 

Sprague Publishing (401) 294-1238 
(401) 294-1239 FAX 

National Advertising Representative 

Ed Antos. Ivy League Magazine Network 

7 Ware Street, 

Cambridge, Mass. 02138 

(617) 496-7207 

t i9yS by Br^nt'n Altiinui M<n^j2inc 

Published binionthlv in September, November, January. 
March, May. and July by Brown University, Providence. 
R.I. Printed by The Lane Press, PO. Box 130, Burlington, 
Vt. 05403. Send changes of address to P.O. Box 1908. 
Providence, R.I. 02912; {401) 863-2307: Alumni_Recortls 
'^, Send editorial correspondence to Box 1854, 
Providence. R.I. 029l2;(40i) 863-2873;fax (401) 863-9599; 
Alumni_Magazine@brown,cdu. Web sue: wwvv.brown. 

Address corn;ction requested 


4 • MAY/JUNE 1998 

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Carrying the Mail 

Revisiting Petra 

Your article "The Enigma of Petra" (Jan- 
uary/February) brought back two pleas- 
ant memories. The first was my own visit 
to Petra in 1994, just after Israel and Jor- 
dan had signed a peace treaty. Traversing 
the Siq on horseback to emerge into the 
sunlight in view of the Treasury was a 
memorable experience. 

The other memory is of Professor 
Martha Joukowsky '58 addressing the 
then-fledgling Brown Club of Delaware 
in 19N4. Needing a speaker from Brown, 
I phoned the alumni office and was 
advised to contact Martha at home. She 
quickly agreed to attend our meeting 
and, on the appointed day, took a train to 
Wilmington and gave an energetic talk 
on Brown archaeology. 

We are all mdebted to Martha for her 
devotion to Brown. May she have many 
productive digs. 

Arthur N. Green '4g 

Wilmington, Del. 

As a volunteer interviewer for the admis- 
sion office, I use every resource I can to 
get Brown's story across to the candidates 
I meet. Not the least of those resources 
are specific issues of the BAM that I've 
squirreled away over the years. 

It a candidate wants to know about 
culture and drama, I pull out the Decem- 
ber 1993 issue on the new theater arts 
center. If they're interested in Brown anci 
Its surroundings, I produce the February 
199s cover feature, "Destination: College 
Hill." If they want to know about the 
beginnings of the New Curriculum, I 
show them the July 1993 issue featuring 
Ira Magaziner '69. And if they want to 
know how they can decide what classes 
to take, I show them "Shop 'Til You 
Drop" (November 1990). Another great 
issue was the one on President Gee 
(November/December 1 997) . 


Letters are always wekoiue, and we try to 
prim all we receive. Preference will be given to 
tliosc that address the content of the magazine. 
Please limit letters to zoo words. W'c reserve 
the right 10 edit for style, (hirily, and length. 


^^^^^B^^^^^53^ '^1 





PT. --- 

-■ ■ 

You can imagine my pleasure, then, 
when the January/February issue arrived 
with Petra on the front cover and the 
photograph of the Roman Road and the 
Great Temple on pages 32-33. I walked 
up and down that Roman Road a half- 
dozen times in the late 1980s. The candi- 
dates I interviewed this winter were 
absolutely fascinated that Brown had 
found the temple under all that dirt, and 
in the story of how the Nabataeans had 
controlled the trade routes from the 
Red Sea to Damascus. 

So yes, good friends, we do read the 
BAM. All the best wishes for your con- 
tinued success. 

Victor]. Logan '40 

Glen EUyn, 111. 

The Courage of David Roiide 

"Betrayal" (|anuary/ February) deserves 
special attention by the country. I hope 
your article is the keystone of action. 

P.S.Yes, I remember Miles Cunat. 

Frank]. Gaffney '32 

Fort Worth, Tex. 

Fishman the Godfather 

Thank you for profiling art professor 
Richard Fishman ("Filling the Canvas," 
[anuary/February). I am certain hundreds 
of artists who are his former students 
cracked smiles when they read that a 
current student called him a "godfather." 

Fishman was a godfather to me, a 
fairy godfather whose presence floated 
around the sculpture studio, poking me 
in the gut and making sure 1 kept push- 

ing my artwork, asking more questions 
about what it meant. His pokes made me 
dig deep into art and the myriad motiva- 
tions for making it. That's the most 
important thing I learned as his student: 
to always keep digging, pushing, asking, 
and poking around for the real meaning 
and motivation behind my work. 

It doesn't matter if the meaning is 
truth, beauty, ugliness, power, or pure 
financial gain. All of these things may 
serve as the subject of art. What does mat- 
ter is that as an artist, you are deeply 
aware of the meaning you wish to con- 
vey, and that you go for it with gusto. 
Even if what you want to convey is con- 
fusion, doing it honestly, with all your 
energy, will keep you on the right path 
as an artist - one that I think Professor 
Fishman would be proud of 

]ecca 'S4 


Comrade Clinton 

It is too bad Janet Yellen "67 has chosen 
to believe that Keynesian economics 
really works ("Clinton's Budgeteer," Jan- 
uary/February). Government interven- 
tion in markets is a contradiction in 
terms. A free marketplace is the only 
market that works, not one saddled by a 
liberal dose of government controls. 
Keynesian economics is just another name 
for socialism, and socialism has never 
worked anywhere in the world for any 
period of time worth mentioning. 

Also, to claim that Clinton is a cen- 
trist m his approach to government is 
ridiculous, since he has done everything 
imaginable to expand government's role 
in health care, education, etc. The only 
part of government he has reduced is the 
military, and now the United States is 
the laughing stock of the world and lacks 
any true foreign policy. 

The "safet)' net of social programs" is 
actually a cleverly disguised jobs program 
for liberal government employees. It is 
also a self-serving means tor liberals to 
justify' their self- worth by proclaiming 
that they will try to take care of everyone 
if you just give them lots of money. 

Biid Brooks \<; 



M.'XY/jUNi; 1998 

Alternative Medicine 

I was happy to see your article regarding 
the discussion of alternative medicine 
during Primary Care Day ("Patient, Heal 
Thyself," (Elms January /February). As an 
acupuncturist since 1980 and a zero bal- 
ancing practitioner and teacher, however, 
I am disappointed that all of the presen- 
ters were M.D.s. I am not saying this 
out of disrespect for M.D.s, as I have the 
highest regard for allopathic medicine. 
But most M.D.s who practice any form 
of complementary medicine do not 
have the full training that others have. 
For instance, many M.D.s will practice 
acupuncture atter only 100 or 200 hours 
of training as opposed to the 2,000-plus 
hours that a trained acupuncturist has. 

In addition, most complementary 
practitioners have a 
very different para- 
digm. We look 
at the whole 
individual — 
body, mind, 
emotions, and 
spirit - and see how best 
we can help each unique person come 
to better health. 1 do not "fix" anyone or 
any problem. Instead, I view my work 
as helping individuals get healthier and 
work on healing themselves. Crucial 
to this is taking a detailed history and 
spending at least thirrs' minutes with the 
patient at each treatment. I know that 
in this day and age, most M.D.s unfortu- 
nately can't spend this amount of time 
with their patients. 

As complementary medical therapies 
move into the mainstream, it is good 
to hear that medical students at Brown 
are showing some interest in how these 
other approaches may help their future 
patients. I have long believed we need 
practitioners of many different modalities 
to best serve our health interests. No 
one system has all the answers. 

Bob Brown '74 


In the Groove 

Torn Still's article on Groove with Me 
("Role Models with Rhythm," The 
Classes, January/February) was a beautiful 
glimpse into this free dance program 
for low-income girls in New York Ciry. 
Readers of the BAM who agree that 
addressing the causes of teenage parent- 
hood, broken tamilies, gangs, and sub- 

stance abuse is more effective than treat- 
ing their effects should contact us at (212) 
505-5995; 70 E. 3rd St., #9, New York 
City 10003. There ^re many ways to get 
involved, including participating with the 
kids, helping us connect with resources, 
coming to performances and fund-raisers, 
and, of course, making a donation. 

We are a small, grassroots nonprofit 
organization, less than two years old, that 
is already making a big difference for 
kids. We urge everyone to help ensure 
the survival of this program. 

Abigail Rosin 'g4 

New York City 
T?jf writer is the founder and director of 
Grooi'e with Me. — Editor 

Meditations on Marcus 

I enjoyed Brian Floca's encounter with 
Marcus Aurelius ("Pagan's Progress," Jan- 
uary/February), but I don't buy the claim 
that scholars find Marcus's Meditations 
"the greatest literary work by a Roman." 
Degnslibns iiou dispiitainhini, but it BAM 
would do an informal poU of the classics 
department, I doubt if anyone would 
put Marcus in the top twenty. 




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The only person 1 know who rates 
the Meditations so highly is President 
Chnton, who claims its his favorite book 
after the Bible. I'll leave it to others to 
assess Clintons scholarship and adherence 
to Stoic doctrine, but I don't want any 
of the BAhfi readers opening the Medita- 
tions and thinking, "Is this the best the 
Romans can do?" 

Ken Mayer '88 

Iowa City, Iowa 

ktriaYer@l)hie.u'eei;. iiiowii.edii 

The article refers to Constantme the 
Great as "the emperor who had legalized 
Chrisdanity in 39s." Constantine did 
indeed establish the toleration of Chris- 
tianity under his Edict of Milan of 313. 
But he was in no position to legalize 
anything in 395: Constantine died in 337. 

Henry J. Stevens '68 

Portsmouth, R.I. 

During my time at Brown, a story circu- 
lated regarding the unveiling ot the Mar- 
cus Aurelius statue. It alleged that prior 
to the removal of the canvas from the 
statue, some pranksters had placed a few 
shovelfuls of horse manure beneath it. 

Please let me know if there is any 
truth to this delightful tale. 

Arthur C. Gentile '51 Sc.M. 

Bloomington, Ind. 
According to University ArchU'ist Martha 
Mitchell, photographs of the utweilin'^ reveal 
no itiainirc nnder the statue. - Editor 

Boosting the Graduate School 

I was greatly excited and heartened to 
read that President E. Gordon Gee 
("Good-bye, Columbus; Hello, College 
Hill," November/December) plans to 
make the Graduate School "one of [his] 
highest priorities." As I am sure President 

Put your business in the hands of your fellow Brown alumni 




For advertising rates and information contact: ' 


(401) 294-1238 Fax (401) 294-1239 publishing 

610 Ten Rod Rd., North Kingstown, RI 02852 

Gee is aware, the quality ot a graduate 
program depends greatly on the caliber 
ot graduate students it can attract. How- 
ever, several recent Ph.D.s have men- 
tioned to me that they are dissatisfied 
with their graduate experience at Brown 
and actively discourage prospective grad 
stutients from attending. Such negative 
word of mouth is highly lamentable, and 
every effort should be made to address 
this situation. 

I encourage President Gee to remem- 
ber the graduate students in his "hope to 
have every student over for dinner during 
their time at the University." I urge him 
to listen to the unique concerns of grad- 
uate students and to try to improve their 
conditions. Any such improvements must 
be made from the top down and the bot- 
tom up; the Graduate School by itself is 
powerless to make such improvements 
without the support of Brown's adminis- 
tration. At the same time, improvements 
at the graduate level are meaningless if 
departments or advisers tail to meet stu- 
dents' needs. 

Irene Antoiienko '9.S Sc.M. 


The writer, a Ph.D. candidate in geological 
sciences, was president of the Graduate Stu- 
dent Council in igg6. - Editor 

Whose Brown? 

In his letter "Off the Mark" (Mail, Janu- 
ary/February), Robert Sarno '86 took 
issue with this statement from President 
Gee's letter of introduction to alumni:"It 
is my sincere hope that in the coming 
vears Brown will not be seen as a distant 
place isolated on a hill, surrounded by an 
academic Berlin Wall." Sarno advised the 
president to gain an insider's perspective 
shaped by the Universirv''s philosophy 
and practice:"! sincerely hope he comes 
to understand Brown better." 

As a graduate of Brown's M.A.T. pro- 
gram, a tlve-year University employee, 
and a ten-year resident ot Providence and 
Pawtucket, Rhode Island, I think it's at 
least equally important to understand how 
Brown is perceived by others in the wider 
community'. It's too easy for Brown to get 
stuck on what it gives to the communis- 
without seriously considering wliat it gets 
and how its actions are viewed. 

Why not invite representadves from 
community groups and local public 
schools to provide an external re\'iew ot 
the University? In the process, the review- 
ers would le.irn more about the Univer- 

8 ♦ MA Y / J u N i; I 9 9 S 





^ — 

— — ■-- 





















..^:^. ^' 


"An Evening with Jim Naughton" 

Two-time Tony Award Winner 

Broadway Star of 
"City of Angels" & "Cliicago" 

Come see a 


Brown alumnus 


(To open 3 days later at 

The Manhattan Theater Club 

in New York City) 

A variety of songs— from 
Cole Porter to Elvis Presley 


8:00 PM 


Barrington, Rl 

For more information, call 

Your Room 
Is Reacfu 

The Donald I. Saunders 's7 Family 

Inn at Brown Unwersitij 

Daily Housekeeping Service 

Continental Breakfast - 

Private Bath 
I Parking ' 

Telephone < 
Color Television 

Individual Climate Control 

It's one of 24 graciously appointed on-campus rooms available for 
nightly rental to guests of the Brown University community. 

Located on the top two floors of the Thayer Street Quad, 

corner of Thayer and Charlesfield Streets, your 

spacious, comfortable room puts you right in the 

center of campus life. You'll enjoy easy access 

Q to the entire Brown Campus, including snack 

™ bars and dining areas. 

ll (Additionally, our meeting rooms and 
b-il lounge are available for group rentaJs.) 


Call (401) 863-7500. FAX (401) 863-7300 
for information, reservations, or a tour. 

sity, and Brown would learn about and 
from members of the surrounding com- 
munity. And it would begin to address a 
crucial question; Does Brown belong first 
and foremost to the higher-education 
community at large, or to the community 
in which it physically resides? 

David AUm 'SSM.A.T. 

Pawtucket, R.I. 

Technological Peephole 

I read with interest 
the column by 
Jocelyn Hale '85 
('"Wrong Num- 
ber," Finally, Jan- 
uary/ February), 
in which she 
describes some of 
the ethical and 
practical dilemmas she has 
faced since obtaining Caller ID. At the 
end of the article, she asks, "Have we 
lost something with all this advance 

I don't think so. Because we grew 
up with telephones that did not give us 
advance warning, we believed it was 
"right" to not know the identity ot the 
caller before picking up the phone. Why 
should the phone be any different from 
my front door? 

Caller ID is my technological peep- 
hole. It has been an effective device tor 
identifying calls from telemarketers, most 
of whose phone numbers show up as 
"unavailable" on my litde box. 

Irvin Liistig 'S3 

Princeton, N.J. 


Vanity Unfair 

I recently read an article titled "School 
for Glamour" in the February issue of 
Ihiiily Fair magazine. Writer jennet 
Conant portrays a Brown University that 
receives more than 15,000 applications a 
year because it is a trendy club for the 
children of the wealthy and a "four-year 
vacation school" for the rest ot its stu- 
dents, rather than a school with high aca- 
demic standards. 

I never read I aiiiiy l-air and ordinarily 
would not have known about the article. 
But a triend called me to say that Brown 
had been tilled with "Euro-Trash." I 
attributed her comment to jealousy, since 
no one in her family had ever been 
admitted to Brown. 

10 ♦ MAY /J UN I£ 1 'J'jX 

Upon reading the article, I wondered 
if laiiitY Fair is published by the same 
people who publish the National Enquirer 
or the SMr.The writing is just as sensa- 
tional and unprofessional. 

Recognizing that there will always be 
detractors from Brown's popularity and 
excellence, I hope President E. Gordon 
Gee will bring us a more positive image 
m the media. 

David Kramer '.5_J 

New York City 

Wrestling With Title IX 

I don't disagree with Marcia Goetz ("All 
in Favor, Say Neigh," Mail, January/Feb- 
ruary) concerningTitle IX's benefits to 
female athletes. The benefits have been 
dramatic and long overdue. My objection 
is to the Department of Education's "pro- 
portionaliry rule," which is not found 
m Title IX and is a euphemism tor a gen- 
der quota. 

Instead of adding opportunities for 
women, colleges are cutting men's sports 
and capping their rosters to achieve "pro- 
portionality." The NCAA's 1997 gender- 
equity study, for instance, shows that for 
every athletic opportunity added for 

women between 1992 and 1997, NCAA 
colleges, on average, eliminated 3.4 
opportunities for men. Division III 
schools (which don't offer athletic schol- 
arships) eliminated 9,000 roster positions 
(12 percent of the total) for men while 
adding only 178 positions for women. 

Ms. Goetz is rightfully pleased with 
the improved caliber of women's hockey 
since she played for Brown. I wrestled 
for Brown around the same time, and like 
Ms. Goetz I am also proud of what my 
team has achieved since then. Unlike 
women's hockey, though, which is grow- 
ing and which no administrator in the 
country would dare cut, my sport is 
described by Sports Illustrated as "dying" 
and "in a Title IX free-tall." It's not dying 
from lack of funds, since wrestling is one 
of the least expensive sports. Nor is it suf- 
fering from lack of interest; wrestling is 
the sixth-most-popular high school sport. 

Men's sports are being cut to satisfy' 
quotas, and wrestling in particular is in 
danger of being destroyed. This scorched- 
earth policy advances a political agenda, 
but it has little to do with ending dis- 
crimination and even less to do with fair- 
ness for athletes. 

Bob Chris tin '6g 

Washington Grove, Md. 


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Sizer's Kids 

I read the editor's column announcing 
Professor of Education Ted Sizer's retire- 
ment ("Sizer's Vision," Here & Now, 
November/December) with much sad- 
ness. I first learned of Sizer and his Nine 
Common Principles in the March 1986 
BAM. I knew my sons would flourish in 
a school demonstrating those principles, 
and I suspected most other students 
would, too. 

As a member ot the Livermore, Cali- 
fornia, school board, 1 heard Ted Sizer 
speak once, early in my first term, and 
it was easy to know why he commanded 
such attention. As he speaks of the chil- 
dren in our schools, he radiates respect 
for them, all of them. Most education 
professionals avoid using the fe-word when 
they speak of students. I've heard educa- 
tors and others speak of "children," "stu- 
dents," "youth," "charges," and "young- 
sters."They know they can't say "kids" 
and make it come out right. From their 
mouths, "kids" sounds casual or ofthand, 
somehow diminishing students' status. 

When Sizer says "kids," however — as 
in "Kids just don't come in neat packages 




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of thirty"- the respect in his voice elevates 
the problem to one worthy of attention. 
His tone also imparts honor and stature 
to those trying to resolve the many prob- 
lems in American education today. 

Many thanks to Ted Sizer for his care, 
attention, and obvious respect for our 

Anne E. Wliite '65 

Livermore, Calif. 

u>hite(3),ncoclict . net 

Trombone Memories 

Reading the BAM is something I always 
look forward to. You never know what 
you will find, and it's great reading. 

The January/ February issue provided 
a nice surprise. On pages 58 and 59, 1 
found a picture with my father, Myron S. 
Hackett '30, looking out at me across the 
years. The photo ot the Brown Orchestra 
was courtesy of Warren "Rabbit" Leonard, 
my father's high school and college 
classmate, his college? roommate, his Boy 
Scout buddy, and his tellow musician. 
They were both from Brockton, Massa- 
chusetts. My father is in the back of 
the photograph on the left, holding a 

Thanks, Warren. 

Don^ Hackett '61 

Potomac, Md. 

dong. hackctt@gsc.gte. com 

Writing John Mclntyre 

In October, my 
brother, John K. 
Mclntyre '39, the 
recently retired assis- 
tant to six Brown 
presidents, sutlered a 
stroke. After more 
than fifty years of 
living in the Provi- 
dence area, John has moved to a nursing 
home in Illinois to be closer to mem- 
bers of his family. 

His many friends may wish to write 
John at his present address: Park Strath- 
moor, Room A-3, s66S Strathmoor Dr., 
Rockford, 111. 61107. 
Robert E. Mclntyre 
Hilton Head, S.C. 

Those Old Rivalries 

May I offer a few observations on 
Brown's archrivais, or lack thereof, as dis- 

cussed in "Rivals: An Informal Survey" 
(Sports, January/February)? 

My father graduated from Brown in 
1905, and as a kid rummaging around in 
his yearbook and other Brown memora- 
bilia, I got the impression that our big 
football rival was Dartmouth. But if that 
was the case, the steam went out of that 
rivalry long ago, because Dartmouth sim- 
ply won too often. Furthermore, in the 
years before the formal estabhshment of 
the Ivy League, we played Dartmouth 
only every few years. 

Our natural geographic rival might be 
Harvard, but they've got Yale as well as 
the rivalry long stirred up by the Boston 
media - namely, that with Dartmouth. 
When I was at Brown, we had mass ral- 
lies before the Yale football game, which 
was always the first game in November. 
After the rallies, we would swarm down 
the Hill and give the team a sendofFat 
the railroad station. In my sophomore 
year, there were 50,000 people at the Yale 
Bowl. When will you ever see a crowd 
like that again at an Ivy League game? 

As far as I'm concerned, every team 
we play with any semblance of regularity, 
particularly from the Northeast, is a tradi- 
tional rival. Let's beat 'em all. 

Allan Nanes '41 

Thousand Oaks, Calif. 

Tackling Tough Questions 

The departure of Head Coach Mark 
Whipple '79 was a disappointment, of 
course, and raises questions about the 
future of Brown football. When he came 
here four years ago as one of the most 
promising young coaches in the country, 
my impression was that Mark anticipated 
a long relationship with Brown, both 
professional and personal. If Harvard and 
Yale could enjoy long-term associations 
with Joe Restic and Carm Cozza, Brown 
could do it with Mark Whipple. 

I've been advised by our administra- 
tion that this was not the understanding 
or expectation of either party and that 
Mark's objective is to coach big-time 
football. Understandably, remaining at 
Brown for a long period would not fur- 
ther that cause. It's still unclear to me, 
though, how moving to the University of 
Massachusetts better positions Mark to 
achieve his long-term goal. Good-bye, 
Mark, I wish you the best. Hello, Phil 
Estes, I wish you the best. But we should- 
n't stop at that. Where is Brown football 
going? Are there some things we need 
to do ditTerentlv? 

12 ♦ MAY/j UNE 1998 

A lot of us alumni are not looking tor 
an Ivy championship every year. We wish 
for a competitive, interesting team, aver- 
aging .500 or a little better, winning the 
title every eight to ten years. Those seem 
like reasonable expectations, given that 
Brown and its competition operate under 
the same standards. In order to achieve 
such a record, we can't keep turning over 
our head coach every four years. We 
can't have our recruits saying or thinking, 
"Coach, I like you, but will you still be 
there when I'm a sophomore?" 

Let's contact our new president, Gor- 
don Gee, who is obviously from good 
football country, and Dave Roach, our 
athletic director, and offer our ideas, assis- 
tance, and support. We should insist 
on consistently competitive teams, aided 
by reasonable continuity within the 
coaching staff. 

George Rolliiison '37 

Bristol, R.I. 

Armenian Genocide 

1 was happy to read Barbara Bejoian's 
review of my memoir Black Dog of Fate 
("The Melting Pot," Books, January/ Feb- 
ruary), but I am concerned that the word 
genocide was not once used in the review. 
Since the word is essential to my memoir 
and I use it dozens of times in the book, 
I find this omission odd and unsetthng. 

Genocide is the sociologically accurate 
term for the annihilation of the Armeni- 
ans by the Turkish government in 1915. 
Raphael Lempkin, who coined the term 
in 1944, saw the 1915 massacre as a semi- 
nal example of genocide. At its annual 
meeting in June 1997, the Association of 
Genocide Scholars unanimously passed a 
resolution affirming that the extermina- 
tion of the Armenians is a case of geno- 
cide, one that complies with the defini- 
tions articulated in the 1947 United 
Nations genocide convention. 

Given the long, corrupt history of 
the Turkish government's denial of the 
Armenian genocide, a failure to use this 
term strikes a particularly painful nerve 
among Armenian Americans. Just as the 
Jewish community would take exception 
to such a treatment ot the Holocaust, so 
does the Armenian community — and 
all people who value the importance of 
truthful history and commemoration. 

Peler Balakian 'So Ph.D. 

Hamilton, N.Y. cw 


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Under THE Elms 

advantages. Brown ofters 
a low student-to-faculty ratio, 
intimate classes, and a gener- 
ally convivial, small-town 
atmosphere. So when Gordon 
Gee - who grew up in a 
town of 2,000 people - and 
his wife, Constance, decided 
to go out for movie and pizza 
one night in March, they 
invited along every Brown 
student stranded in Providence 
for spring break. Gee bought 
up all the seats in Thayer 
Street's Avon Theater, asked 
the cooks at Andrews Hall to 
fire up the pizza ovens, and 
selected his snazziest bow tie 
for a night out with soo of 
his closest friends. 

It was a giddy evening, 
and a v\'elcome night out for 
those students stuck on cam- 
pus to play catch-up in their 

Dinner and a Movie 

Gordon Gee lias a date with his wife. 
Five hundred students tci^ ahvig. 

courses or unable to afford 
plane tickets to Fort Lauder- 
dale. For example. Aixa Al- 
monte "oo, a visual-arts con- 
centrator from Columbus, 
Georgia, had to finish a paper, 
polish some drawings, and 
take a make-up exam tor her 

group independent study 
project iiiTagalog, a language 
of the Philippines. Her triend, 
Thuy Anh Le "oo,just wanted 
to relax. "My friends were all 
talking about going to Lon- 
don, Cancun, the Bahamas," 
said Le, a public-policy con- 

centrator from California 
who couldn't aftord to go 
home for spring break. "I just 
want to sleep." 

After the Avon had fiUed to 
capacity, one especially grate- 
ful student rushed to the 
front of the theater to lead the 
crowd in a rousing, if sHghtly 
off-key, rendition of "For He's 
a Jolly Good Fellow" aimed at 
Gee. The president appreciated 
the sentiment. "This is the 
first time I've taken a whole 
group to the movies," he con- 
fided as the lights dimmed 
and the curtain parted in the 
arty, old-style movie house. 
The event was pure Gee: an 
unscripted social gathering that 
allowed him to nuiigle casually 
with his guests. "It's an oppor- 
tunity for Constance and me 
to meet some students," he 
said, "which has both intended 

14 • MAY / J u N L I 9 9 S 

Under THE Elms 

and unintended consequences." 
Showing at the Avon that 
night was Starship Troopers, 
which opened with a futuris- 
tic newsreel showing a battle- 
field littered with decapitated, 
dismembered, and otherwise 
mutilated human corpses. 
A voice-over explained that a 
group of Mormon mission- 
aries on a distant planet had 
been attacked by a race of 
giant bugs at Fort Joseph 
Smith, their newly established 
outpost. Gee, who had not 
seen Starship Troopers before 
the screening and who's Mor- 
mon, found the irony irre- 
sistible. "Let me tell you," he 
said later, cracking a wide 
smile, "I was a little worried at 
first, but as soon as they started 
making fun of Mormons I 
knew 1 was all right." 

The procession up to the 
Crystal Room in Alumnae 
Hall after the movie lacked 
the formality of a Commence- 
ment march, but the partici- 

pants were no less ardent to 
reach their destination: tree 
food. Students crowded around 
tables or pulled up stretches 
of carpet, stuffing themselves 
with pizza and ice cream as 
the Gees worked the room. 
"I'm Gordon Gee!" the presi- 
dent said to each student in 
his nasal voice. "So! How are 
things going?" Constance, 
who punctuated her more 
soft-spoken approach with a 
quick trip to the long food 
line, made sure her garrulous 
husband paused long enough 
between breaths to eat. 

Elsewhere around the 
room, students spoke animat- 
edly about the film, whose 
violence raised a few eye- 
brows."! have to say I'm a lit- 
tle surprised that Gordon Gee 
decided to see this movie 
with a group of students," said 
David Kantro 'oi, who had 
already seen Starship Troopers 
twice. "It's the goriest film I 
can think ot." 


The University adopted a code of conduct requiring companies 
that manufacture clothing featuring the Brown name to pay 
fair wages and provide safe working conditions. ...A mere 
17 percent of a record 15,486 applicants were accepted to the 
class of 2002.... The Brown Derbies and the Chattertocl<s 
together won five awards from the Contemporary a Cappella 
Society of America, including best male collegiate soloist (the 
Derbies' Joel Begleiter '98), best male collegiate song (the Der- 
bies), and runner-up for best female collegiate album (the Chat- 
tertocks).... Tuition and fees for 1998-99 will rise 3.9 percent, 
from $29,900 to $31,060.... Longtime Fed-watcher Professor of 
Economics William Poole, who will continue as an adjunct pro- 
fessor, was named president of the Federal Reserve Banl( 
of St. Louis.... The Watson Institute for International Studies 
announced it would build a $15 million building on the cor- 
ner of Thayer and Benevolent streets by the year 2000. 

Yimei Chng '96, a sec- 
ond-year medical student, 
pointed out to Dean of Stu- 
dent Life Robin Rose, who 
had also been at the showing, 
that the comic-book nature 
of the violence made it ditTi- 
cult to take seriously. "It was 
totally meant to be OTT," 
Chng said. 

Rose's brow wrinkled at 
the acronym. 

"You know," Chng 
explained, "over the top." 

The dean nodded. 

For the most part, though, 
the film's loony violence did 
little to diminish the students' 
appetites. By the time the 
evening was over, students had 
managed to down 816 slices 
of pizza, 600 Ben & Jerry's ice 
cream bars, and 720 cans ot 
soda. Late in the evening, 
with pizza-sated students fil- 
ing out around him. Gee 
made a final tour of the room 
to say hello to the workers 
who'd been serving the pizza 
and ice cream, as well as to 
the plant operations workers 
shoveling piles of greasy plates 
and sticky wrappers into trash 
containers. Finally, casting a 
look around to see if there 
were any unshaken hands left 
in the room, Gordon Gee 
joined Constance by the door 
and decided to call it a night. 
- Child Calls 

Greg "Chocolate Man" D'Alesandre 
(left) and Joel Flrehammer with 
their winning dishes. 

Culinary Engineers 

Coinbiiiiiig i^ood science 
and <^ood cats 

REAL MEN may not watch 
the Food Channel, but at 
least two male scientists think 
they should. Amateur culinary 
enthusiasts Joel Firehammer 
'90 and Greg D'Alesandre '95, 
'96 Sc.M. are engineers by day, 
but it was their culinary skill 
that garnered them top honors 
this spring in the Men-Who- 
Cook Contest in Seekonk, 
Massachusetts. Firehammer's 
Mexican garlic soup won 
for best appetizer, and D'Ale- 
sandre 's chocolate pate with 
champagne sabignon and a 
seedless raspberry coidis blew 
away the dessert competition. 

Firehammer, a graduate 
student in electrical engineer- 
ing with a passion for Mexi- 
can cuisine, spends his days in 
Barus and Holley doing re- 
search on a laser-powered 
video projection device that 
he hopes will some day replace 
film projectors in movie 
theaters. D'Alesandre - "the 
chocolate man" to some of his 
friends - is lead programmer 


Under THE Elms 

and computer-systems 
administrator at Spectra Sci- 
ence, which uses technology 
developed by Professor ot 
Engineering and Physics 
Nabil Lawandy to distinguish 
individual pieces of cloth. 
(Lawandy is also Firehammer's 
academic adviser.) 

"Cooking is a lot of sci- 
ence," Firehammer insists. 
Knowing how ingredients 
will react to a simmer instead 
of a rolling boil, for example, 
can make the difference be- 
tween a well-textured mine- 

strone and one that looks like 
oatmeal. Firehammer's pet 
peeve is an imprecisely salted 
soup. "People either don't put 
enough in and it's bland," he 
says, "or they put in too much 
and then throw in a bunch 
of other seasonings to keep it 
from tasting too salty." 

The spare-time chefs won- 
dered what they'd gotten 
themselves into when they 
showed up for the contest. 
"There were all these people 
with elaborate, enormous set- 
ups - some even called in 

florists," D'Alesandre says. 
"My presentation involved a 
slab of marble and a loaf of 
pate."The judges, however, 
weren't eating with their eyes. 
D'Alesandre 's creation, a slice 
of dense chocolate mousse 
topped by a dollop of heavy 
cream whipped with egg yolks 
and champagne and served 
with the coiilis (a kind of sweet 
sauce) as garnish, won him 
two fifty-dollar gift certificates 
to a local restaurant. Fireham- 
mer's soup - an intense garlic 
broth served over freshly 

chopped tomatoes, green 
onions, avocado, and cheese - 
netted him six months of free 
cable television. 

Both men have culinary 
ambitions. Firehammer wants 
to write a vegetarian cook- 
book for non-vegetarians. "lust 
because you're a vegetarian 
doesn't mean you can't eat 
well," he says. And D'Alesandre 
says he repeatedly asks himself 
one question about the future: 
"Can 1 make enough money 
being an engineer to open a 
chocolate store?" - Cluul dihs 

Eureka, Europa 

Looking for life on a Jupiter moon 

A very high resolution image taken by Galileo 
from a distance of 540 miles (top) shows icy plates 
that probably broke apart and moved laterally 
when the surface was slush or water. The cliffs 
are a few hundred feet high, and the blocks 
of debris below them are the size of house. A 
few are as big as the Rhode Island state capitol, 
the large white building in the upper left of 
the bottom image, which shows Providence at 
the same scale. 

The universe, scientists tell us, is an expanding place. So if there is life out there 
somewhere, where would you begin to look? According to Professor of Geological 
Sciences James Head and three ot his fellow Brown researchers, you may not have to 
look far. In March, the group made national news when they reported that Europa, one 
of Jupiter's four moons, appears to have the ingredients necessary for life. 

At a campus press conference jointly held by Brown and NASA on March 2, 
Head unveiled dramatic photos taken a few months before by the Calileo spacecraft - 
photos so detailed that scientists are able to pick out objects on Europa's surface the 
size of a large truck. According to Head, the images show patterns of surface debris that 
"strengthen evidence for the idea that there is a subsurface of warm, slushy material." 
The existence of such an underground ocean would indicate that, despite a surface 
temperature of 260 degrees below zero, the moon has sufficient heat, water, and or- 
ganic material for life to develop. 

Describing the evidence for a liquid ocean at the press conference were graduate 
students Geoffrey Collins and Louise Prockter and postdoctoral researcher Robert 
Pappalardo, all of whom, like Head, are members of the Calileo imaging team. Collins 
described a shallow crater on the surface of Europa named Pwyll, whose shape sug- 
gests "that flowing ice or slush filled it in pretty quickly," much like honey flowing up 
into a bowl. Pappalardo pointed out large blocks in one of the Calileo photos that were 
configured like icebergs floating in a "rough, jumbled matrix" that more closely resem- 
bles slush than water that has frozen solid. The images, he said, "suggest that the sur- 
face was warm and slushy at one time." Finally, Prockter, who has studied mid-ocean 
ridges on Earth, described patterns of striations on the surface and ice sheets that 
appear to have moved apart, like tectonic plates floating on an ocean. 

Definitive answers about the existence of a subsurface ocean could come early next 
century, after another spacecraft is launched toward Europa in late 2003. The orbiter, 
which will reach Europa about five years later, will not only prove or disprove the exis- 
tence of an ocean, but also should be able to measure its depth. 

Head and his team are betting that the ocean's existence will be confirmed. "We 
are now 80 to 90 percent sure," Pappalardo concludes. Then again, he won't be 100 
percent certain, he says, "until I can go swim m it." - Norman Boucher 

1 6 • MAY /J UNE I 99S 

Whiz Kid 

Ml. Jiiuial <^ocs to 

WHY IS IT," a teacher 
once asked Piyush 
"Bobby""Jindal "92 when he 
was in elementary school, 
"that all Indians are so smart 
and well-behaved?" The ques- 
tion, although intended as a 
comphinent, struck at the heart 
of one of the most enduring 
stereotypes about Asian Amer- 
icans. "She thought there 
was a secret that we all knew," 
jindal said during a visit to 
campus in February. "I, being 
a smart-aleck, told her it was 
the food." 

The anecdote was one of 
many that |indal, a Louisiana 
native whose parents are 
from hidia, related in an Asian- 
American History Month 
lecture titled "Asian Americans 
in Politics." The stories, 
which lindal stressed weren't 
intencied to be proscriptive, 
illustrated his own contusion 
over growing up - and 
eventually returning to work 
- in the deep South, where 
tension between Caucasians 
and African Americans often 
overshadows the stories of 
other ethnic minorities. 

A rising political star at the 
age of twenty-seven, Jindal 
stopped on campus shortly 
after becoming executive di- 
rector ot the National Bipar- 
tisan Commission on the 

Future of Medicare, a seven- 
teen-member panel set up by 
the White House and Con- 
gress under the 1997 budget 
agreement. The biology and 
public-policy concentrator 
gained national attention after 
a stint as Louisiana's secretary 
of health and hospitals. 
Appointed at twenty-tour, the 
t'ormer Rhodes Scholar elim- 
inated the department's $400 
million deticit and created a 
S170 million surplus withm 
two years. 

Jindal used his Salomon 
lecture as an occasion tor rem- 
iniscing about being Indian 
American in Louisiana. Except 
for the occasional insensitive 
remark, such as the question 
from his elementary-school 
teacher, or the time he was 
called a "dirty Indian" on 
the playground, Jindal said he 
didn't think a lot about his 
own race while growing up 
in Baton Rouge. But at age 
four, he was tired ot repeatecily 
spelling Piyush, his given 
name, for people, so he started 
calling himself Bobby, after a 
character on Tlic Brady Bunch. 

"Kids teased African 
Americans a lot more than 
they teased Asian Americans," 
he recalled. "People were 
either classified as Atrican 
Americans or 'not.' I was 
placed in the "not' category." 
Later, when the governor 
introduced his cabinet to the 
press, a reporter asked about 
the "all-white" group. The 

Bobby Jindal takes the measure of 
Capitol Hill in Washington. 

governor did not point out 
that his cabinet did, in fact, 
include one person of color. 

As a student at Brown, 
Jindal said he "wasn't very 
self-aware" and was surprised 
when he was approached one 
day by an Indian-American 
father and son who were 
visiting campus. "They didn't 
know me, but they singled 
me out and approached me, 
asking me to talk about 
Brown," Jindal remembers. 
"They assumed that my values 
were the same as theirs. It's 
like we were in a secret club 
because we looked the same 

The patchwork of anec- 
dotes — variously amusing, 
disturbing, and touching - 
coalesced in a serious point: 
"I can't tell you how to be 
Asian American," Jindal said. 
"No longer are we [clustered] 
m certain professions or geo- 
graphies." Looking out into 
the audience of future Asian- 
American leaders, Jindal 
smiled. "I hope you're excited 
about the diversity, too." 
- Toni Still 

The Bittersweet 
Prize I 

A Brown playwnq^ht 
wins a Piilit:cy 

PAULA vogul's play 
How I Learned to 
Drive, which won a 
Pulitzer m April, 
seemed to be special 
from the start. Vogel, a profes- 
sor of English and theater, 
says the play sailed from first 
draft to Broadway with aston 
ishing speed. "It just hap- 
pened," she says."l rewrote 
less than 10 percent ot this 

play atter that tirst draft." 

What's more, her parents 
loved the result, despite the 
play's tocus on a girl's struggle 
to tree herselt trom a charm- 
ingly seductive sexual preda- 
tor who also happens to be 
her uncle. "They had a sense 
that this was going to happen," 
Vogel recalls, adding that for 
her the Pulitzer is tinged with 
sadness: both her parents have 
died since How I Learned to 
Drive opened in New York. 

The loss is still sinking in 
as Vogel tries to cope with 
the incessant phone calls and 
nonstop publicity the Pultizer 
has unleashed. By late April 
she had ordered a separate 
phone line to deal with 
the extra calls. "I'm hoping 
that once some of the smoke 
clears away I'll be able to 
spend a little time thinking 
about my mother and father," 
she says. "I'm trying to book 
m a little quiet time." 

Vogel is halfway through a 
two-year leave from Brown's 
graduate playwnting pro- 
gram, which she has headed 
since 1985. She hopes to re- 
turn, but admits that, despite a 
love tor teaching, balancing 
stage and classroom 
can be tricky. 
"Unlike other 
fbrms of writing," 


C.\ROL RlJSEtil. 

says the author ot twenty-two 
plays, "with playwriting you 
have to spend the time to 
write, the time to workshop, 
the time to produce. You can't 
phone in your rewrites. It's a 
tremendous load." The Pulitzer 


and the death of her 
parents, Vogel adds, 
has her reexamining 
her priorities tor the 

How significant 
is a Puhtzer Prize 
to a playwright? 
Before the prize was 
announced. How I 
Learned to Drive was 
scheduled to open 
in thirrv' productions 
around the world - 
including the New England 
premiere at Providence's 
Trinity Repertory Theater on 
May 17. One day after the 
Pulitzer announcement, how- 
ever, that number had gone 
up to fifty-one. - Chad Galls 

Self-Taught Radio 

WBRU- News Station 
of tlicYciir 

learned that WUKU's 
news department had won 
six Associated Press awards for 
excellence in broadcast jour- 
nalism, she was thrilled but 
not entirely surprised. After 
all, the department took five 
awards in the Massachusetts/ 
Rhode Island college category 
just last year. What did sur- 
prise Spencer, WBRU's news 
director, however, was the sta- 
tion's winning 1997 News 
Station of the Year honors in 
its division, a first tor the 
Brown-atTiliated commercial 
radio station. 

And what a division it is. 
Massachusetts has such broad- 
casting powerhouses as Emer- 
son College in Boston and 
a number of other schools 
able to tap into resident 
broadcast- journalism depart- 
ments. WBRU not only lacks 
the support of a journalism 
department, it doesn't even 
have a faculty adviser. The 
teaching' that takes place within 

the station's Benevolent Street 
othce is all student to student. 
Spencer, for example, learned 
news directing from Tori 
Kronhaus '99, last year's news 
director. This kind of peer 
teaching must be working. 
Spencer was responsible tor 
two of the four stories that 
picked up this year's first- 
place Associated Press awards: 
a piece on the Native Amer- 
ican Graves and Repatriation 
Act, which forces museums 
to give back certain Native 
American artifacts, and a fea- 
ture on sleep disorders. 

Spencer's stories aired as 
part of WBRU's weekly 
fitteen-minute newsmagazine, 
llic Point, as did a series on 
the revitalization of down- 
town Providence that earned 
Pari Shah '00 and Zach 
Block '99 a first-place award 
tor continuing coverage. 
Interviewing prominent gov- 
ernment officials is one of 
the many perks of working 
at WBRU says Shah, who 
talked to Providence Mayor 
Vincent ("Buddy") Cianci 
for her Point series. "It's cool 
that people in Providence 
respect us as a real radio sta- 
tion," she says. "We get to cover 
things, like the Democratic 
and Republican National 
Conventions, that students 
wouldn't |normalK| be able 
to cover." 

As for her .ivvard. Shah 
says that it brings responsibil- 
ity with it: "The people who 
trained iiie won an aw.ird, and 

I finally won mine. What they 
taught me, I get to teach to 
an intern." — Torri Still 

The Bookman 

RcDU'iiihcriii}^ a 
publishing i^iaiit 

News Director Jane 
Spencer in the WBRU 
studio: learning, doing, 
and tlien passing it on. 

EVEN THOUGH lie doesn't 
live here anymore, 
Robert Creeley still looks like 
a New England poet. With 
his flannel sliirt and modest 
manner, he seems like the guy 
from next door - a friendly 
man who just happens to be 
the creator of spare, lyrical 
poems that have influenced 
two generations of poets. The 
author of more than seventy 
volumes of poetry, prose, and 
plays, ("reeley was on campus 

in March to celebrate the late 
James Laughlin, founder and, 
tor sixty years, head of the 
pioneering New Directions 
publishing company. 

Creeley 's reading to a 
standing-room-only crowd 
at Carmichael Auditorium 
kicked off a three-day memo- 
rial tribute to Laughlin spon- 
sored by the Program 
in Creative Writing. 
In addition to read- 
ings and panel discus- 
sions by more than 
a dozen New Direc- 
ticins authors and 
translators, the trib- 

James Laughlin, who 
bequeathed more than 
4,000 rare books and 
manuscripts to Brown 
before his death last 

ute featured a first 
glimpse of Laughlin's 
own gift to Brown — a collec- 
tion of more than 4,000 rare 
books and manuscripts that 
Samuel Streit. associate librar- 
ian for special collections, 
calls "a nuijor windfall for 
Brown libraries." 

Creeley read from Life 
and Death, his latest New- 
Directions poetry collection, 
and reminisced about Laugh- 
lin. wh<5 provided a first, and 
much-needed, venue for 
such writers as Ezra I'ound, 

I S • M AY /J u N I-: I 99 S 

Under THE Elms 

Gertrude Stein, Vladimir 
N.ihokov. Nathanael West "24. 
William Carlos Williams, and 
Brown Professor Emeritus ot 
English Edwin Honig."What 
he provided," Creeley said, 
"was a sense of being able to 
write without constriction, 
without the distraction of the 
sense that you can't say that, 
its not possible, it's not permis- 
sible. [Laughlm's] extraordinary 
provision brought together a 
remarkable company of writ- 
ers that It was an honor to 
belong to." 

On display at the Annmary 
Brown Memorial during 
the New Directions festival 
were such literary treasures 
as signed, limited-edition 
volumes by Ezra Pound and 
William Carlos Williams, as 
well as those authors' rare 
page proofs, on which they 
had written annotations and 

According to Streit, 
Laughlin's interest in Bro-wn 
began when Professor Emeri- 
tus of English John Hawkes 
invited him to teach as a guest 
lecturer in the English depart- 
ment. "Laughlin had a very 
good time guest-lecturing 
here," Streit said. "He liked the 
faculty, he liked the students, 
and he liked the library." 
Shorriy before Laughlin's death 
late last year, Streit says, the 
publisher called "out of the 
blue and asked if Brown would 
be interested in acquiring his 

The Laughlin gift came m 
two parts. The first, a bequest 
set up by Laughlin, consists 
of his collecticin ot four 
major American writers: Ezra 
Pound, William Carlos Wil- 
liams, Gertrude Stein, and 
Thomas Merton.The second 
part was initiated by Laugh- 
lin's widow, Gertrude Huston 
Laughlin, who, Streit says, 
"asked me to go through the 
rest of [his] library and take 
whatever 1 wanted tor Brown." 

When It is complete later 

this spring, the Laughlin col- 
lection will make Brown an 
important stop for scholars 
trying to understand a group 
of major writers who found 
their audience through James 
Laughlin. "Getting to New 
Directions," Robert Creeley 
reminded his listeners, "meant 
being given a place at the 
table." - Lori Baker 'S6A.M. 

Art Attack 

A conference looks 
creativity and its 

time an artist 
could work alone on a 
poem, painting, or play 
and know with some cer- 
tainty that It would be loved 
and understood by a hke- 
minded audience. But if 
such a world ever existed, 
it vanished long ago. Instead 

— as the eighteenth Providence 
Jouniiil-Brown University 
Public Affairs Conference 
demonstrated in late February 

- the arts have become a bat- 
tleground of the culture wars. 
Government officials, busi- 
nessmen, teachers, foundation 
directors, and - oh, yes - 
artists skirmish not only over 
such basic questions as what 
constitutes good art, but also 
over who should pay for it, 
what messages are appropriate 
in it, and where and when 
kids should be exposed to it. 
The title ot this year's con- 
ference may have been "The 
Arts in America," but it was 
the subtitle, "Creativity and 
Controversy," that more accu- 
rately summed up the week. 

Kicking otTthe five 
evenings of panels, speeches, 
and readings on February 2^ 
was Time art critic Robert 
Hughes, who set a provocative 
tone by describing himself as 

an unrepentant elitist. The 
author of The Cidiiire of Coin- 
plaiiit, in fact, called not for 
an end to elitism, but for an 
infusion of it into art criticism, 
which, he said, has become 
diminished by idenrity politics. 
Hughes stressed that art should 
be judged by the "skills, tal- 
ents, and imagination of the 
artist." Judgment, he added, 
should not be tinged with 
"the odious brush of gender 
and racial discrimination. " 

Hughes suggested to the 
overflow audience in the Salo- 
mon Center that the con- 
straints of identity politics 
reach far beyond the field of 
art criticism. "The air is full 
of declarations of identity and 
victim status: "It's a black 
thing, a white thing, a woman 
thing,' " he said. Such an 
approach is "a substitute tor 
thought." The problem, he 
argued, is "too many artists 
for the base to support." 
Artists whose work is unrec- 
ognized attribute it to racism 
and sexism, but not all artists 
are wrongly ignored. "Most 
art made by blacks and Asians 
IS mediocre," the Australian 
native asserted, pausing for 
dramatic eflect."Most art 
made by whites is mediocre. 
Under the rubric of self- 
esteem, we are supporting 
ethnicity and difference 
rather than looking for 
true e.xcellence." 

Hughes complained 
that the "elitist" label 
- a term he has 
come to embrace — 
is an equal-opportunity 
epithet, employed by 
everyone from Newt 
Gingrich to "left-wing per- 
formance artists." He contin- 
ued, "To be called an elitist 


Shana Harvey '99 and Adam Arian '99 performed a snippet of Sweeney 
Todd on the first night of the Arts in America conference. 


today is like being called a 
communist sympathizer forty 
years ago. It requires no proof. 
Both sides use it, but it is an 
unexamined term." Judgments 
of quality, he said, are now 
seen as undemocratic, but as a 
critic "some things do just 
turn you on. It's your duty to 
explain why." 

By the time Poet Laureate 
Robert Pinsky walked 
onto the Salomon Center 
stage on February 27, the audi- 
ence was ready to hear some- 
thing a little difterent.They 
had heard about politics from 
Frank Hodsell, the former 
director of the National En- 
dowment for the Arts; about 
education from Assistant Pro- 
fessor of Public Policy and 
Education Constance Bum- 
garner Gee; and about good 
and bad art from an entire 
panel of newspaper critics. 
Now they wanted some art. 

Square -jawed, with 
cropped salt-and-pepper hair, 
Pinsky looked and sounded 
like a smart street-corner 
philosopher. For the next hour, 
wearing a dark collarless shirt 
and black jacket, he delivered 
poetry and wit in the blue- 
collar locutions of his native 
New Jersey. 

Two opposing motivations 
fuel the creative mipulse, Pin- 
sky began. On the one hand, 
art represents an effort to 
please people." i made this. 
Mom,' " he joked, imitating a 
child holding out a crayon 
drawing. "And then [Mom] 
puts it on the refrigerator." 
But artists are also rebels, he 
continued. In his own case, as 
a teenage saxophonist he was 
angry with a society that 
didn't value "sensitive young 
men" as much as macho ath- 
letes. "My history as a writer 
has been trying to be cussed, 
trying to argue back," he said. 

Pinsky's poetry goes be- 
yond cussedness, however. 
A renowTied translator (most 

U.S. Poet Laureate Robert Pinsky ends the Arts in America conference by 
reading from and discussing his worl(. 

recently of Dante's Iiitcnio) 
and professor ot creative writ- 
ing at Boston University, 
he writes verse filled with 
both historical references and 
descriptions of everyday 
objects. In "Shirt," one of the 
poems he read in February, 
Pinsky began with a list of 
garment components — "The 
back, the yoke, the yardage. 
Lapped seams ..." - and 
detoured into a riff on a 191 1 
New York Cit^' factory fire 
that killed 146 sweatshop 

The u'ilnci.': in a biiUdiiii; 
across the street 

Wlio watched hoiv a youii'i 
man helped a g^irl to step 

Up to the u'iiidou'sill, then 
held Iter out 

Away front the masoiny 
wall and let her drop. 

And then another. As if he 
irerc helping them up 

To enter a streetcar, and not 

In some ot his poems, 
Pinsky reimagines people and 

events. In "From the Child- 
hood of Jesus," he imagines 
Joseph scolding the five-year- 
old Christ for playing on 
the Sabbath and then Jesus 
turning on another boy who 
thoughtlessly wrecked the 
miniature dam he'd built in a 
stream. Pinsky describes a 
furious Jesus, "his child's face 
wet with tears," putting a ter- 
rible curse on the other boy, 
who withers before the fami- 
lies' appalled eyes. Later that 
night, "alone in his cot in 
Joseph's house, the Son/of 
Man was crying himself to 

At his best, Pinsky wres- 
tles the past into the present, 
describing and confronting it, 
discovering unexpected con- 
nections. "The shopping mall 
is precisely and equally as 
historical as Florence," he 
insisted, urging young writers 
to see the timeless in the timely. 
"Thousands of years of his- 
tory are playing a chess game 
against you. Now, it's your 
turn. That's art: 'I'm going to 
make a move against history.' " 
— I'orri Still and .-liine Diftily 

The Real 

The one the tourists 
don 't see 

confined to what Colum- 
bus saw when he lost his way," 
the prime minister of Jamaica, 
P.J. Patterson, told a packed 
Salomon Center on April 10. 
The scattered outcroppings 
of land poking through the 
water just beyond the Gulf of 
Mexico "have been frag- 
mented by the sea and the 
accidents of colonial conquest," 
he said. "Yet we are one 
people." In recent years, the 
nations of the Caribbean have 
grown more assertive about 
establishing a regional identity. 

Patterson, who received 
an honorary degree while on 
campus to deliver the keynote 
address at the sixth annual 
Northeast Regional Caribbean 
Students Conference, stressed 
the importance of this Carib- 
bean unity and solidarity. He 
also urged the students at the 
conference - especially those 
of Caribbean ancestry — to 
understand and share their his- 
tory with the rest of the world. 
"We need to learn more 
about each other," he said, 
"not just how others see us." 

Fitting the Caribbean 
countries into "a credible 
economic and social niche" is 
perhaps the region's most 
daunting task, Patterson e.x- 
plained.The Caribbean Basin 
is filled with thousands of 
islands of varying sizes, each 
with a distinct history that 
combines colonial influences 
with those of the African 
slaves who were brought into 
the area during the nine- 
teenth century. 

Negotiations have long 
been under way to consoli- 
date Caribbean economic 
interests, Patterson said, but 
economic reform, trade agree- 

10 ♦ MAY/JUNE 1998 

Under THE Elms 

Jamaica and its closest neighbors in the Caribbean Basin. 

\7 T^Sh^ 

Antigua and 
PugxJoRico .Barbuda 


amaic^— ^ 

Dominica Q 

St. Lucia" 


Trinidad and Tobag 

Jamaican Prime Minister 
P.J. Patterson collects his thoughts 
after receiving an honorary degree 
in April. 

ments, and diplomatic negoti- 
ations must exist alongside 
social equality and stability. 
"Economic development 
cannot be sustained in an 
atmosphere of social degener- 
acy," he added. "We strive 
to build a market economy — 
not a market society. " 
- Chad Gaits 


Not Guilty 

A federal court backs Brown 
in a sexual harassment case 

ON MARCH 31, a federal 
jury in Providence 
ruled unanimously that Brown 
was innocent of negligent 
supervision and of creating a 
hostile educational environ- 
ment that allowed a visiting 
professor of chemistry to 
assault and sexually harass 
a student during a December 
1992 study session. Marketa 
Wills '95 had filed a ten-count 
complaint against the profes- 
sor, Kayode Adesogan, and 
against Brown in U.S. District 
Court in December 1995, 
claiming that the University 
should have known of Adeso- 
gan's propensity for such be- 

havior and should have done 
more to protect her from 
him. Three other lawsuits 
against Brown and Adesogan, 
filed by Emily Bored '95, 
Stacey Gray '94, and Julie 
Stunkel '96, remain unresolved. 
Opening arguments on Borod's 
complaint were heard on 
April 28. 

Adesogan, who claimed in 
1992 that he had "inadver- 
tently" brushed Wills" breast, 
arrived at Brown in 1 991 
through a faculty exchange 
program with the University 
of Ibadan m Nigeria. Praised 
for his work by both students 
and faculty, he was offered 
a position as visiting professor 
for the 1992-93 academic 
year, but after Wills's com- 
plaint, he was placed on pro- 
bation and informed that a 
second incident would result 
in immediate dismissal. Ades- 
ogan was dismissed on March 
15, 1994, after Julie Stunkel 
'94 filed a sexual assault com- 
plaint against him. He is 
believed to have returned to 
Nigeria, beyond the reach 
of U.S. courts. 

In her federal complaint, 
Wills based her allegation that 
Brown knew Adesogan was 

acting inappropriately on an 
incident two months earlier. 
In October 1992, Laura 
Schleussner "93 had reported 
inappropriate behavior by 
one of her teachers to Senior 
Lecturer in Theater, Speech, 
and Dance Barbara Tannen- 
baum, who was then the 
University's sexual harassment 
hearing officer. Schleussner 
also asked Senior Lecturer in 
Chemistry Edelgard Morse 
that someone talk to Adeso- 


gan about his having touched 
her inappropriately. Although 
Schleussner opted not to tile 
a formal complaint, she said 
in a deposition for the Wills 
case that she had given Tannen- 

baum a written account ot 
the incident. Tannenbaum 
testified during the trial that 
she had not received any 
written account and that she 
could not remember the stu- 
dent identifying Adesogan to 
her by name. 

Response to the Adesogan 
affair has fallen along pre- 
dictable lines: University offi- 
cials - and now a jury m fed- 
eral court - have asserted 
from the start that complaints 
were handled in a firm 
and timely manner and 
in tiill compliance with 
Brown's manual on 
preventing sexual 
harassment. 77ie Brown 
Daily Herald, mean- 
while, has consistently 
criticized the adminis- 
tration for mishandling 
the case by not firing 
Adesogan earlier. The 
controversy has partly 
been responsible for the 
University's streamlin- 
ing how it handles sex- 
ual harassment grievances 
and for making sure that any 
victim of harassment clearly 
understands the options for 
filing a compliant.- Norman 
Boucher O^ 




The Thrill of 

It's official: the woiuoi arc ready 

for priiue time. (And sportswriters are 

often the last to know.) 

One of the great attractions of 
sport IS Its quantitative certainty. 
Sure, the Oscar Madison types will always 
find plenty of qualitative judgments to 
argue over — the best baseball hitter ever, 
the best all-round basketball player - but 
in no other human activity can the mea- 
sure of greatness be so simply calculated 
through addition and long division. In 
most sports, the ball is either hit or 
missed, and the games are either won or 
lost. The final reckoning is right there in 
a batting average or, in the case of the 
Olympics, the number of medals a coun- 
try has won. 

Until Nagano, that is. The most 
enduring lesson ot the winter games — for 
the United States at least - was that medal 
totals tell only part of the story, and 
maybe not even the most interesting part. 
Measured by conventional calculus, U.S. 
teams performed below expectations in 
Japan, where the U.S. medal total hovered 
somewhere between those of Finland and 
Poland. But something far more signifi- 
cant occurred in Nagano, something the 
medal totals did not reveal, and Brown 
athletes were at the center of it. Katie 
King '97, Tara Mounsey '01, and the rest 
of the U.S. women's ice hockey team 
showed the world once and for all that, 
when it comes to sports, the women are 
ready for prime time. To viewers in the 
United States, King, Mounsey, and their 
teammates collectively provided the indis- 
putable highlight of the games when they 
upset Canada, 3-1, for the gold. By con- 
trast, the men's ice hockey team, top-heavy 
with highly paid and self-congratulatory 
NHL stars, trashed its dormitory and 
went home empty-handed. At Nagano 
the women demonstrated that fans look- 
ing for athletes who work hard, play 
tough, and compete witii iieart need 

Red, white, blue, and gold: 
Tara Mounsey '01 after 
Team U.S.A. became the 
best in the world. 

searcii no more. And it happened in 
hdckcy, among the most macho ot sports. 

"It was weird," says Katie King, who 
scored a hat trick in the game against 
Japan. The gutsy performance ot the 
women's team, she continues, "opened 
people's eyes. I think it's had a big impact 
on young girls. They know there's a place 
for them in a sport tliat a lot ot people 
follow from day to day and get really 
excited about." 

Oi course, tiie excellence of women's 


sports didn't just suddenly happen. The 
success and spirit of the women's hockey 
team at Nagano were the culmination ot 
a long struggle that tinally produced a 
kind of critical mass. It's not just that 
women are now allowed on the rink or 
the plaving t'leld; they have been playing 
with determination and focus for some 
tune. Tiie news is that they have gotten 
much better than anyone expected. All of 
a sudden people are watching and talking 
about women's teams, and parents now 

2 2 ♦ MAY /J UNi; I 99 S 

are as likely to cheer on their 
daughters at soccer practice 
as they are to root for then- 
sons in Little League. 

Sportswriters - who are 
almost always men - are only 
now catching up with these 
developments. Late in Feb- 
ruary, for example, the Bosloii 
Globes. Bob Ryan revisited a 
story he'd written twenty- 
five years earlier about a 
national women's collegiate 
basketball tournament. "What 
I wrote," he remembered after 
watching the U.S. women's 
hockey team take the gold, 
"was condescending and 
outrageous .... Like any leer- 
ing frat boy, I just had to 
identify', in print, the player 
I had deemed the most 

"1 know more about bas- 
ketball than I do about 
hockey," Ryan continued, 
"and I can tell you that I 
know of no sport in thi.s 
country that has shown a 
greater rate ot improvement 
over the last two decades or 
so than women's basketball. 
. . . Hockey has no compara- 
ble franre ot reference. These 
women are the pioneers." 


hat happeneci m 
Nagano has also 
been happening in Provi- 
dence. For colleges such as 
Brown, the Title IX non- 
discrimination ruling was 
only the most visible of 
many factors behind a new 
order in campus gyms and 
on rinks and athletic fields. 
Success breeds respect, and 
p over the years. Brown 

women's teams have landed 
in the win column far more often than 
have men's teams. Since 1956, the men 
have brought home a total of thirty Ivy 
titles; Brown women have racked up 
forty-five since 1973 (when the Ivy- 
League began tracking women's teams). 
Some cynics might argue that, by starting 
the Ivies' first women's soccer and 
women's ice hockey programs. Brown, in 
effect, staked out untrodden turf. But look 
at the quantitative side of recent history. 
The 1996-97 female Bears, tor example. 

captured ivy championships in ice hockey, 
volleyball, softball, and tennis - more titles 
than any other school. Male Bruins, 
excluding club varsity teams, won none. 

And a winning program sure helps at 
recruiting time. Annie Cappuccino, a 
senior associate director in the Admission 
office, won't say whether top-notch 
female high-school athletes are beginning 
to tbcus on Brown more frequently. She 
admits, however, "that there's been a lot ot 
admissions interest in women's sports of 
late. Brown has some extremely good 
women's teams and some coaches who 
have made a name for themselves. And 
people want to be a part ot that." 

Anne Trafton '99, sports editor at the 

Brown Daily Herald, reports that women's 
teams are not only drawing applicants, 
they're starting to attract fans. "At times 
I've even noticed a difference between 
last season and this one," she says. "I was at 
the opening [women's basketball] game 
against Northeastern. We had more than 
300 fans that night, and last year we didn't 
get more than about 100 per game." At 
most of the women's sports events Trafton 
has covered, she's noticed that fans get to 
know the players and their particular skills 
and personalities better than do the spec- 
tators at men's games. "While men's sports 
overall are still the bigger draw," she says, 
"a lot of fans there tend to be casual t'ans. 
I see women's tans as more loyal, and 


(as of April 1) 

Men's Basketball 


Senior center I'aul Krasinski played 
his final home game on Februai-y 2 1 , 
scoring twenty-one points and grab- 
bing eleven rebounds to lead Brown 
to a 69-66 win over Cornell. 

Women's Basketball 


The Bears beat Columbia and 
Cornell in late February, extending 
Coach Jean Marie Burr's stellar 
streak to ten seasons without a 
losing Ivy record. 

Women's Gymnastics 7-6 

Brown vaulted into third place at 
the Ivy Classic in early March and 
hung on for a seventh-place finish at 
the ECACs three weeks later. 

Men's Ice Hockey 13-16-2 

Before getting bounced by h'^' rival 
Princeton in the ECAC quarterfi- 
nals, the Bears were one ot the 
nation's hottest hockey teams, post- 
ing a 7- 1- 1 late-season ledger. 

Women's Ice Hockey 22-7-4 

Topping last year's superb season, the 
women icers became the first Iv\' 
team to win the ECAC tournament 
and went all the way to the national 
finals before losing to UNH, 4-1. 

Men's Squash 4-9 

Ik-.iting less prepped-out schools 
and losing to totally pink-and-green 
rivals, Brown downed CorneU, 
Bowdoin, Tufts, and Colby and lost 
to the remaining Ivies plus Trinity. 
Amherst, and Williams. 

Women's Squash 8-7 

l^eveismg the preppie rule adhered 
to by the men (see Men's Squash), 
the Bears knocked ofFJ.Crew out- 
posts Amherst and Williams en route 
to a winning record. 

Men's Swimming 5-6 

Chuck Barnes "99 earned a share 
of the Phil Moriarty Award as the 
leading swimmer at the Eastern 
championships. The Bears finished 
third, completing their best season 
since 1991-92. 

Women's Swimming 7-1 

For the first time since 1984-85, the 
women splashed and sprinted to 
an undefeated Ivy record. The squad 
won twelve events and placed first 
at the Ivy championships. 

Men's Indoor Track 


The Bears capped off a season of fine 
individual performances with one 
of their best team efforts, finishing 
third .It the Heptagonals in March. 

Women's Indoor Track 


The women did their male colleagues 
one better hy coming 111 second at 
the Heptagonals. This matched then- 
finish at the New England Challenge 
Cup finals a month eariier. 

Wrestling 10-12 

Senior co-captain Tivon Abel pinned 
a brilliant season emphatically to the 
mat by finishing 111 fifth place at 
the NCAA tournament and earning 
Ail-American honors. 


"While men's sports overall are still the bigger draw," says the Brown Daily 
Herald's sports editor, "I see women's sports fans as more loyal, and sometimes 
more knowledgeable and enthusiastic." 

sometimes more knowledgeable and 

One of the reasons for this might be 
that a women's basketball game features a 
different set of skills from those on display 
at a men's game. There are no seven- 
footers in size-sixteen sneakers jostling 
each other before one of them pivots and 
slam-dunks. "It's a different game," says 
Carolyn Thornton '90, a two-time All-Ivy 
Softball centerfielder while at Brown and 
now the Providence jouyiuiFs first tuU-time 
female sportswriter. "You're not going to 
see the dunk, but the movements seem 
somehow more pure. There's more finesse 
in many ways, since women rely on crisp 
passes and good outside shooting." 

Legendary UCLA coach John 
Wooden has said that women's basketball 
teams tend to have better fundamentals. 
Statistics say that their free-throw per- 
centages are better. And according to 
Susan Leitao of Northeastern University's 

Center for the Study of Sport in Society, 
there is a joy and a sense of discovery 
surrounding women's sports at the 
moment. "A lot of the men who are top 
players are spoiled," she says. "They've 
got an attitude problem, and tans can 
sense that. In a broader sense, I think, 
women are accepted in so many profes- 
sions now that people have decided it's 
time to accept them m sports. There's a 
future in it." 

At Brown, some of the barriers that 
women's teams have broken are financial 
ones. Last year, trustee Elizabeth Zopti 
Chace '59 and her husband endowed the 
head coaching position ot the University's 
women's basketball team with a $1.4 
million gift - the largest sports program- 
ming donation in Brown's history and 
only the second such women's coaching 
endowment in the country. According to 
Dave Zucconi 's.s, who runs the Brown 
Sports Foundation, fund-raising for 

Brown University Bookstore 

For more information or a catalog 

401-863-2099 or 800-695-2050 

women's athletics has skyrocketed. Annual 
giving earmarked for women's ice 
hockey, for example, has gone from 
$5,674 in 1990 to $49,425 in 1997, while 
annual giving to all women's sports over 
the same period has risen from $111,904 
to $479,144. 

With a loyal fan base, alumni support, 
and broadening acceptance even among 
non-jocks, female college athletes are 
beginning to see their names pop up on 
the sports pages next to ads for the Hair 
Club for Men. Thornton, who's been 
writing about sports for eight years, 
thinks women are getting more ink in her 
section ot the paper than they ever did 
and that the coverage is improving. The 
Joiinuil, she says, "is doing a better job of 
covering women's sports since people see 
It as important now. My editor is con- 
cerned about it." 

Even before the Olympics, and before 
Brown's current women's ice hockey 
team captured the ECAC tide in March 
(see Scoreboard), an AP newspaper piece 
that ran this winter in the Boston Globe 
seemed to sum up the new era for 
women's sports at the University and 
across the United States. It was a simple 
game story, but the details were com- 
pelling: the Team U.S.A. women's hockey 
team — the same one that woulcH later win 
the gold medal in Nagano - had beaten 
Team Canada in San Jose, C'alifornia, 
before the largest American crowd ever to 
see a women's hockey game. The final 
score was 4-3; the game was tied by Tara 
Mounsey with eight seconds left, and the 
winning goal came on an overtime shot 
by Katie King. 

Brown head coach Digit Murphy, who 
coached both of these star players at 
Brown, missed the game because it wasn't 
one of her broadcasting assignments for 
the Lifetime cable network or TNT 
Sports. But for Murphy - who maintains 
there's no boundary between the new 
popularirs' of women's collegiate sports 
and the \^omen's Olympic buzz, since 
one level feeds fresh talent to the other - 
reading the story was enough. She 
remembers opening her morning paper 
and the article leaping out at her. "For 
1110." she sa\s, "di.U moment \\as like, 
'Wow, we've arrived!' " 0&; 

24 ♦ M AY /J u N 1-; I 99.S 


Inscribe your name on 
College Hill. 


I he Brown Alumni Association invites 
JL you to celebrate your lifelong connection 
to Brown by purchasing a brick in the Alumni 
Walkway. Add your name - or the name of any 
alumnus or alumna you wish to honor or remem- 
ber - to the beautifully 
designed centerpiece 
of the Maddock 
Alumni Center garden 

restoration project. Celebrating Our 

Connections to Broum 



Join the hundreds of alumni who have 
already purchased their bricks! 








Bricks @ $ioo each 

D My check, made payable to Brown University, is enclosed.* 
D I prefer to charge. Circle one: Mastercard Visa AmEx 




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■ Form may be mailed to: Brick Walkway, Alumni Relations, 
Brown University, Box i8^g. Providence, RI 02906-420^ 
Faxed to: Bricks, 401 S6)-jojo 
Or visit our website: 


A Woman 
of Honor 

Oh, how some fraternities 
have changed. 


A letter m the July 1997 Brown 
Alumni Mcnthly caught my eye: 
in It. an alumnus from the mid-1970s gen- 
tly criticized a new Jewish fraternity, 
Alpha Epsilon Pi, tor its lack ot diversity. 
As the letter writer reminisced about his 
days as a brother in a very diverse Zeta 
Psi, I couldn't help but smile. Oh, how 
fraternities have changed! I am a brother 
of Brown's revamped Zeta Psi, now called 
Zeta Delta Xi — a more diverse group 
than Zeta Psi ever imagined. I am half 
Asian and half Jewish. But more impor- 
tant, I am a woman. 

Of the nine fraternities at Brown, only 
two admit women as oflicial members. 
One, Alpha Delta Phi, is a nationally rec- 
ognized literary fraternity. Zeta Delta Xi 
is more of a renegade. During the 1980s, a 
declining interest among men in joining 
fraternities led the Brown chapter of Zeta 
Psi to seek out women as brothers. Yet in 
accordance with national Zete bylaws, 
female pledges were only welcome at 
local ceremonies, while male pledges par- 
ticipated in both local and national ones. 
The University's chapter and national 
headquarters were clearly on a collision 
path. Sure enough, in 1986, after Brown's 
female Zete president was not aOowed to 
attend the fraternity's national conven- 
tion, the Brown chapter was kicked out of 
the national organization. On January 24, 
1987, Zeta Psi became Zeta Delta Xi. 

For me, Zeta Delta Xi has put the 
"fraternity" back into frat. Perhaps that's 
because its members have truly worked 
together atter that 1987 split - after offi- 
cials from the national Zeta Psi organiza- 
tion arrived in Providence with a moving 
van and took away pledge manuals, 
alumni records, and even the pool table. 
Over the past ten years we've re-created 

the pledging process from memory and 
imagination; we have slowly restored the 
house with our own money and labor. 
Everything from bar stools to porch 
swings has been built by pledge classes. 
And while a young fraternity has few 
alumni who can contribute a lot of cash, 
we've saved enough money to purchase a 
pool table and a dart board and have still 
managed to put some in the bank. 

The decision to join Zeta Delta Xi 
was not an easy one. On this politically 
correct campus, the only people who can 
be openly bashed are those beer-swilling 
frat boys on Wriston Quad; they're idiots, 
racists, rapists, and obnoxious jocks. Our 
mothers tell us to stay away, and our resi- 
dent counselors bad-mouth them. Like 
most first-year students, I had only been 
to frats to meet and greet and bump and 
grind on the dance floor. I had never 
considered joining. 

But my roommate, who was dating a 
Zete brother, dragged me to a rush, and 
everything changed when I walked 
through the door. I'd expected lots of 
large, grunting men and petite, perfumed 
women. What I saw was every kind of 
person from a cappella singers to athletes, 
vegetarians to rabid carnivores, homosex- 
uals to homophobes. Sure, the bar was - 
and still is, on most nights - full of people 
playing drinking games in a cloud ot 
smoke. The ditference was that at Zete, 

half of the people were clutching cans of 
Mountain Dew instead of beer. 

People might think it strange that 
someone who considers herself a femi- 
nist, as I do, would join a fraternity. But 
it makes sense. I tend to get along better 
with men than with women; I feel more 
at ease and less competitive in their com- 
pany. Besides, college is a time tor explor- 
ing. I figure I've got the rest of my lite 
to hang out with people who are just 
like me. 

Today, Zeta Delta Xi has thirry-nine 
members; seventeen women and twenrs'- 
two men. We are Jews, Christians, Hispan- 
ics, Caucasians, and Asians. We come from 
rural Washington state and Paris, France; 
from boarding schools and public schools. 
This diversity - which began years ago 
with the admission of members of racial 
and rehgious minorities but which leapt 
forward with the admission of women - 
is what makes Zete strong and will carry 
it into the next century. 

The author of that letter in the July 
BAM wrote that "One of the attractions 
of fraternity life was living, working, and 
studying with gentlemen ot honor of 
very ditTerent backgrounds and learning 
from them." It still is. Only now, it's people 
ot honor. O^; 

Julie Fei-Fan B^iher is ii llu\ner conLenlralor 
Iront \\alerlo\fn. Mdisdchtneus. 

26 ♦ MAY/JUNl'. I 99 8 

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In Class 

Taking on 
City Hall 

To students, urban politics is a 

subject. To political science 

professor James Moroiie, 

it's an obsession. 

By Torri Still 


I he introductory lecture course 
^L looms large in the lives of first-year 
undergraduates — often, unfortunately, as 
an impersonal, sleep-inducing experience. 
An esteemed, professor stands at a lectern 
and delivers a weighty oration, while a sea 
of students scribbles madly. He or she 
must simultaneously impart knowledge 
and entertain, prodding the members of a 
passive audience into piping up with 
questions and comments. It's a formidable 
task, even for a seasoned teacher. Unless, 
of course, you're James Morone. 

As the students enrolled in Political 
Science 22 filed into Alumnae Hall one 
typical day in March, Morone, a professor 
of political science, was already on stage, 
swigging coffee and bottled water while 
pacing back and forth like a boxer prepar- 
ing for the big fight. "When 1 teach City 
Politics," Morone says of Political Science 
22, "it dominates my consciousness. I'm 
intensely focused on getting students 
engaged in the subject and doing the 
reading. It forces me to organize my 
whole Kfe. I think my sock drawer is even 
more organized when I teach this class." 

Most of City Pohtics's 420 students 
have no background in political science. 
But Morone turns their lack of knowl- 
edge into an advantage, wowing them 
with manic lectures punctuated with per- 
sonal anecdotes. Unlike smaller and more 
specialized courses. City Politics attracts 
students from a variety of disciplinary 
neighborhoods: first-year students testing 
out political science as a potential con- 
centration, juniors and seniors fulfilling 
requirements in political science and 

urban studies concentrations, and senior 
biology concentrators taking their first 
(and last) course in pohtics. All are sub- 
jected to the passion of a professor who, 
in his words, "believes the sun rises and 
sets based on this stuff." 

Yet Morone recognizes that passion is 
no substitute for intellectual rigor. "Even 
if you have a political science back- 
ground," he says, "it doesn't mean you'll 
ace the course." Morone's keen, roving 
eye spots the yawners, the latecomers, the 
unfortunate souls wearing bright-colored 
clothing. "If a student yawns, I'll caU on 
him or her in the next three minutes," 
Morone explains. "But I know it's hard 
for students to talk in front of 400 people. 
If they obviously haven't done the read- 
ing, I may pick on them a bit, but I'm not 
into humiliating them. They know if 
they've given a good or a mediocre 

His empathetic approach makes class 
participation less frightening for the 
dozens of students who do participate in 
the lectures, either as volunteers or vic- 
tims. "If you say something that's almost 
there," explains Alissa Silverman '01, "he'll 
get you there." Hytheni El-Nazer '00 
agrees: "He'll give you an answer back- 
wards if he has to. There is a definite 
impetus to come prepared, though." 

During the semester. City Politics 
winds its way chronologicalK' 
from James Madison to Tammany Hall to 
today's urban problems, jason Barnosky, a 
graduate student in political science and a 
teaching assistant for the course, describes 
the class as "a combination of theorv and 


history, using cities as a microcosm of the 
American e.xperience." Because it is an 
introductory class, Morone must intro- 
duce certain contextual concepts — plu- 
ralism and federalism, for e.xample - 
before delving too heavily into the partic- 
ulars of city pohtics. "The study of urban 
pohtics has often been criticized for being 
too city-specific." Morone says. "We can't 
be naive about the national frame." 
Morone warns his class that viewing poli- 
tics as a layer cake with distinct levels is 
simplistic. In fact, he explains, the frag- 
mented and mixed layers of federal, state, 
and local governments more closely 
resemble a marble cake. 

To illustrate this metaphor, Morone 
gives his students a scenario: Donna Sha- 
lala, head of the Department of Health 
and Human Services, designates each of 
them "czar of coordination." As czars, 
they are in charge of coordinating the 
thousands of agencies, on multiple levels, 
that are supposed to carry out Clinton's 
urban poHcy. "What do you do?" Morone 
inquires. Students toss out solutions like 
"get them together and talking" and 
"streamline," and Morone nods. "But," he 
says, "remember that these agencies have 
different sources of funding and authority. 
Public agencies compete just as private 
ones do. It's not in their interest to coor- 
dinate, so it's difficult tor there to be an 
effective czar." 

If anything. City Pohtics is a class 
about the impediments, both historical 
and structural, that stand in the way of 
solving urban problems. "Cities have the 
most acute needs of American society, like 
homelessness and unemplo'^Tnent," Morone 
tells his students, "but they face them with 
the weakest tools .md institutions." The 

28 ♦ MAY /J u NE 1998 

burden on cities has been growing m 
recent years, he explains, as the stature ot 
the federal government has become 
diminished in the pubhc's mind. Cities are 
now expected to handle problems that 
were once the responsibility of the federal 
government, whose constitutional author- 
ity and budgetary power are much greater. 

"Mayors face one hell ot a job keep- 
ing the various balls in the air," Morone 
tells his class. "They're reliant on state leg- 
islators and the feds tor money, so they're 
constitutionally dependent on people 
who may not live in, or even like, the 
city." One way city leaders cope with this 
situation is to hone some of the tools used 
by old-style political machines. Mayors 
and city officials who lack the funding 
and authority to deal with such complex 
problems as poverty and environmental 
degradation are forced to rely on the 
time-tested tactics of favors, threats, and 
party loyalty. 

Despite such difficulties, Morone 
remains optimistic about cities. One rea- 
son is the reformist attitudes ot the stu- 
dents who pass through his class. Many of 
them are there expressly to figure out 
how they can effect change. Alissa Silver- 
man says she remembers her mother 
going to battle over plans to build a high- 
way though their neighborhood. "I've 
grown up in a fimily of reformers," she 
says, "so I took this class to get a bigger 
picture of how community organizers can 
be most effective." Morone encourages 
such connections between theory and 
practice. "City politics is about communi- 
ties people live in and care about," he says. 
"The joy of teaching at Brown is that the 
kids agree with that and are willing to 
participate in their community. " 


orone has been teaching City 
Politics since ig&i, when he 
was hired, fresh out of graduate school at 
the University of Chicago, with the plea 
that he raise enrollment in the fledgling 
class from thirty to loo. Within three 
years, word of mouth had increased the 
class's popularity to its current level. 
Morone estimates that more than 500 stu- 
dents turned out for the first lecture 
during "shopping period" this semester, 
only to find that, should they choose to 
enroll, they had a paper on James Madi- 
son due within the week. Nevertheless, 
420 stayed. 

In addition to delivering lectures, 
Morone must coordinate ten teaching 
assistants and eighteen discussion sections. 

which offer students the opportunity to 
discuss the class in a more intimate set- 
ting. Although Morone holds office hours 
and makes an effort to learn the names of 
those who raise their hands during lec- 
tures, the T.A.s have the most direct con- 
tact with students. Morone encouras^es 

In 1983, Morone, fresh out of 
grad school, was asked to raise 
enrollment in City Politics 
from thirty to loo. Within three 
years, more than 400 students 
were signing up for the course. 

them to do more than regurgitate the 
week's reading and lectures. 

In one of Jason Barnosky's sections 
this spring, students were asked to apply 
some of the tools and terms they'd 
learned to a discussion ot urban poverty. 
Barnosky first reminded them of the 
"pluralism model" Morone had discussed 
in lecture that week: individuals form 
groups, there is a mutual adjustment 
among groups, and the result is a "politi- 
cal outcome." With that model in mind, 
Barnosky asked the students how to 
address the problem of urban poverty. 
The students were soon off and running 
with their own metaquestions: Where 
does poverty come from? Does poverty 
have to exist? Is there a finite amount of 
money in the world? Barnosky sat quietly 
and let the discussion run its course 
before deftly steering it back to the 
model. Do the poor even have the 
resources to form political groups? he 
asked. As the students began debating that 
question, the bell rang. Many of them 
continued the discussion as they walked 
out the door. 

"A lot of the questions [students] raise 
in section are very philosophical," says 
Briann Greenfield, a graduate student in 
American civilization and a City Politics 
teaching assistant. "Morone is providing 
them with a model tor analyzing things 
they see and read about every day." 

And read they do. In addition to the 
books required for the course, all students 
must subscribe either to the Ncii'York Times 
or the Boston Globe. For their final paper 
they must .ipply their newly honed skills 

of political analysis to one particular issue 
they've followed in the newspaper over 
the course of the semester. "This assign- 
ment is very hard for them," says Morone, 
"because they have to take a leap of faith 
at the beginning that they'll learn enough 
to do something they can't yet do. When 
they pick up a newspaper at 
the end of the semester, 1 hope 
they see the news in a richer 
and more complicated way." 

Although City Pohtics 
begins with 400 students who 
know Httle about political sci- 
ence, by the end of the semes- 
ter some of them are hooked. 
In March, Hythem El-Nazer 
was only halfway through the 
course, but his ambition for a 
political career was at a fever 
pitch. "Professor Morone has 
really lit a fire under me," he 
said. "An insider's look into 
city politics might dissuade 
some people from entering the field, but 
it's made me want to go into it to end 
corruption and discrimination." 

Morone says he is gratified above all 
by the number of students who later 
write to tell him how the class continues 
to shape their thinking, years after grad- 
uation: "They say, 'I've got a job at a bank 
or at a legislator's office, and I see the 
world through lenses you've polished 
for me." " c^ 



For further reading: 

Till' Ei'oUitioii ot AiiifiiCitii Uiihiii Society 
by Brown Professor of History P. 
Howard ChudacotT (Prentice Hall, 

Crabgmss Fioiiticr:Tlie Subiidhiiiiztitioii 
of America by Kenneth Jackson (Oxford 
University Press, 1987) 

Tliere are No Children Here: Tlte Story 
of Two Boys Growing Up in the Other 
America by Alex Kotlowitz (Douhleday, 

Federalist Papers (especially #10 and 
#51) by lames Madison (Bantam, 1982) 

The Democratic Wish: Popular Partici- 
pation and the Limits of American 
Government by James Morone (Yale 
University Press, 199S) 



Dixie Without a Map 

Confederates in the Attic: Dlspiihhes from the 
Unfinished Ciril llhr by Tony Horwitz \So 
(Pantheon Books, 416 pages, $27.50). 

By Chad Galts 

ne must show some pluck it one 
IS to learn about the world." a 
twelve-year-old girl tells Tony Horwitz in 
Baglidaii U'ithont :i Mcip, his 1991 account 
of his travels through the Middle East as a 
freelance journalist. The next day he 
accompanied the girl, her eleven-year-old 
brother, and their mother to a refugee 
camp on the outskirts of Khartoum, 
Sudan, to spend the clay dressing the 
stumps ot lepers. Biifjiidad U'ithont a Map 
provided Americans with an alternative 
look at a part of the world they were then 
just getting to know through television 
footage of the Gulf War. The book also 
gave readers a glimpse of Horwitz him- 
self: plucky, determined, and slightly nuts. 
In Confederates in the Attic, Horwitz, 
who won a 1995 Pulitzer prize for his 
work at the Wall Street Journal, is back, 
this time delivering a fresh look at charac- 

ters on the home front. A few pages into 
the book, Horwitz and his wife, Geral- 
dine Brooks, wake up to the sound of 
gunfire in their sedate suburb ofWashing- 
ton, D.C. They leap out ot bed to find 
their front lawn taken o\-er by a tilm crew 
and a group ot e.xtras in Confederate uni- 
forms. Smelling story possibilities, Hor- 
witz brews a pot of coffee, grabs a handful 
of mugs, and wanders outside to chat up 
the soldiers. Within minutes he has gotten 
himself invited along for a weekend Civil 
War reenactment by a group of men so 
obsessed with period authenticity that 
they deliberately starve themselves to look 
more like the photographs of hollow- 
cheeked Confederates. "Look at these 
buttons," one ot the soldiers says to Hor- 
witz."! soaked them overnight in a saucer 
filled with urine." The uric acid, Honvitz 
explains, oxidizes the brass buttons and 
gives them an authentic-looking patina. 

When Horwitz shows up for his 
weekend expedition, he is asked to sur- 
render his clothes for "scratchy wool 
trousers, a filthy shirt, hobnailed boots, a 
jacket tailored for a Confederate midget, 
and wool socks that smelled as though 
thev hacln't been washed since Second 


Some people have a hard time asking 
random strangers embarrassingly per- 
sonal questions. Not Tony Horwitz: "You 
just go up and ask. People - in this coun- 
try in particular - like to talk." Easy-going 
and genuinely gregarious, Horwitz claims 
to have learned some of his most valuable lessons about reporting while working 
as a union organizer in Mississippi after graduation. "I spent weeks knocking on 
people's doors, only to have 90 percent of them slammed in my face," he says. 
"You get to the point where you have no shame" Being a reporter, Horwitz adds, is 
sometimes easier than being a writer. One of the biggest challenges in writing 
Confederates in the Attic was "boiling it down to something shorter than War and 
Peace," he says. When his first draft ran more than 700 pages, he knew he had to 
do some cutting. "The hardest and most important thing to learn as a writer is how 
to chuck your own material." - C.C. 

ID the Attic 

Loisptches from the Unfiaished Civil War 

Tony Horwif 

Manassas." A night on the freezing ground 
under a skimpy blanket that smells as bad 
as his socks does nothing to discourage 
Honvitz; it just gives him ideas. Lying 
awake at home on clean sheets the next 
night, he decides "to spend a year at war, 
searching out the places and people who 
keep memory of the conflict alive in the 
present day." 

His search will take three years and 
carry him through fifteen states; he will 
conduct scores of interviews and take 
notes on hundreds of chance conversa- 
tions. In Atlanta Horwitz meets a dead 
ringer for Vivian Leigh who impersonates 
Scarlett O'Hara for a living; in Colum- 
bia, South Carolina, he visits the mobile 
home of Walt, a beret- wearing vegetarian 
and self-described "citizen of the Confed- 
erate States of America, which has been 
under military occupation tor the past 
hundred thirty years." The war ended a 
long time ago, Horwitz writes, but "the 
issues at stake in the Civil War — race in 
particular — remained unresolved, as did 
the broader question the conflict posed. 
Wouki America remain one nation?" 

Such questions can tempt a writer to 
fall back on libraries and well-spoken 
experts as primary sources; their erudite 
answers, however, retain the musty smell 
of books. Honvitz cites such writers as 
Ambrose Bierce and Walker Percy, and 
makes a trip to see Civil War guru Shelby 
Foote, but the real experts in Confederates 
in llic Attic are the everyday people Hor- 
witz happens upon and engages in con- 
versation. During his visit to the Shiloh 
battlefield on the anniversary of its 
bloody two-day conflict in 1862, Honvitz 
meets a bus driver from Minneapolis, a 
man who works in a phone-packagmg 
plant 111 Chattanooga, a retired teacher 
from ALibama. a lawyer tlom Missouri, 

30 ♦ M A Y ,' J u N L 1998 

and Wolfgang Hochbruck, a professor 
from the University of Stuttgart. Each 
chance meeting contains a nugget of rev- 
elation for Horwitz. Hochbruck, for 
example, tells him that Germans" blos- 
soming interest in the American Civil 
War has a disturbing undercurrent: "They 
are obsessed with your war," Hochbruck 
says, "because they cannot celebrate their 
own vanc^uished racists." 

White Americans, Horwitz discovers 
during his Southern odyssey, are prone to 
the same obsession, sometimes for the 
same reason. After reading about the mur- 
der of Michael Westerman, who was shot 
by a black teen for flying a Confederate 
flag in the back of his red pickup on Mar- 
tin Luther King Jr. Day, Horwitz takes off 
for Guthrie, Kentucky, to look into the 
story. On his way into town he spots a 
likely bit of local color: "The cmder- 
block building looked more hke a bunker 
than a bar. . . . Man-high razor wire 
ringed an adjoining yard. A military jeep 
painted m desert camouflage sat parked 
out front, beside pickup trucks and 
Harley choppers." There are no black 
people inside Redbone's Saloon; it is a 

whisding kettle of white rage. Horwitz 
orciers a beer, takes a tew notes, and ami- 
ably queries a fellow patron about the 
letters F.T.W. scrawled on the bottom of 
a piece of verse hanging from the wall. 
"Who's asking? The F-B-I?" the man 
rephes, provoking gales of laughter 
around the bar. As Horwitz scribbles 
more notes he senses someone behind 
him. "A leatherclad giant with bloodshot 
eyes," Horwitz writes, rips a page from his 
notebook and, while munching it loudly, 
tells him, "I shit out a turd this morning 
that was bigger than you." As Horwitz 
eases off his stool and looks toward the 
door, the man makes a grab at him, rip- 
ping one arm off his jacket. 

The image of Tony Horwitz, mild- 
mannered reporter, running tor his lite 
down a backcountry road in Kentucky is 
one jewel among many in this book. A 
thoughtful listener with an ear for every- 
day speech, Horwitz balances his acute, 
if somewhat dark, wit with genuine 
empathy for the people he meets. He is 
interested in tackling an issue as snarled 
and complicated as race relations, but 
he wants the people who live with it on 

the most intimate terms to tell the story 
m their words. Laura Jones, the black 
eighty-year-old president ot the Ameri- 
can Legion women's au.xiliary in Vicks- 
burg, Mississippi, tells Horwitz: "The Klan 
hanged a boy on Grove Street. I remem- 
ber the tree. . . . Things haven't changed 
because deep down people's hearts haven't 
changed. No law, no government, no cor- 
poration IS going to make you do the 
right thing. That comes from inside. The 
outside's changed," she adds, "but the 
inside 's stayed the same." 

Confederates in the Attic does not pre- 
sent definitive answers or plot a path 
toward racial harmony. Horwitz's deter- 
mination to round up an exhaustive 
account of Southerners' opinions and 
ideas about the Civil War leaves many 
issues almost as muddled as they are when 
he takes them up. The symboHsm of the 
rebel flag, the Ku Klux Klan's right to 
free speech, and the idea of a single, 
shared history between North and South, 
or black and white, are issues that bear no 
easy resolution. We have to show a little 
pluck, Horwitz is telling us, it we hope to 
understand our country. 

Body of Stories 

Recorcrini; Bodies: Illness. Disabilil}' and Life 
Writing by G. Thomas Couser '77 Ph.D. 
(University ofWisconsin Press, 336 pages, 
cloth $55- paper S24.95). 

By LoRi Baker '86 A.M. 

* yy/ 'i'-"'"' 'serious illness strikes, more 
▼ V than physical health may be 
lost: according to G. Thomas Couser, 
identirs' may be fractured as well, in his 
thought-provoking new book. Recovering 
Bodies: Illness, Disability, and Life Writing, 
Couser, a professor of English at Hofstra 
University, e.xplores the ways in which 
autobiographical illness narratives, or 
"pathographies," help the sick to reclaim 
and rehumanize their bodies and their 
lives. Examining personal narratives ot 
people batding breast cancer, HlV/AlDS, 
paralysis, and deafness, Couser concludes 
that by writing their own stories the ill 
create a forum tor counteracting the 
medical, social, and cultural stigma otten 






attached to catastrophic illness and dis- 

Couser opens Restructuring Bodies with 
an insightful analysis of how being curetf 
can undermine healing. Increasingly, he 
says, medical technology has given physi- 
cians access to their patients' bodies in 
ways that have tended to "supplant or 
simply bypass the patient's testimony." 
Dialogue between patient and physician, 
once the key to diagnosis and treatment, 
has become superfluous because sophisti- 
cated medical devices can tell the story 
more accurately than patients can. 

In this era of techno-medicine, physi- 
cians need no longer view illness in the 
context of the patient's entire life. Rather, 
the patient becomes the illness - and physi- 
cians may refer to their patients "as partic- 
ular [malfunctioning] organs: for example, 
'the liver in 201.' " Doctors translate their 
patients' stories into specialized medical 
language and transform sick bodies into 
bodies of data, both of which are typically 
incomprehensible to patients. This co- 
optation of the patient's story may lead to 
the curing of physical illness, but the 
patient is left alone to struggle with the 
larger context: how to integrate the experi- 
ence of illness into a coherent sense of self. 

One of the ways that some men and 
women have accomplished this integra- 
tion, Couser says, is through what he calls 
"pathography," a life-writing genre that 
has grown increasingly popular during 
the past thirty years. While some pathog- 
raphy is simply the story of the experi- 
ence of being ill, beginning with diagno- 
sis and ending with physical or spiritual 
healing, other such narratives have a 
wider reach, placing illness in the context 
of the author's entire lite. Either way, 
pathography humanizes the experience of 
being ill in a manner that directly under- 




By Thoimis Mallon '73 

Tfiomas Mallon's mnel is a 
riclily imiigined, 
intelloctuallv engaging tale 
of a young couple's fateful 
encounter with history and 
■ and Clara Harris were 

Henry Rathbom 

engaged to he mamed, when they were in\'ited 
to share the Presidential Kix uitli the Lmcolns 
at Ford's Theatre on the cwiiuifi ot Liood 
Friday. 1865. When John Wilkes Booth crept 
into the box, the young couple liecame 
witnesses to a central tragedy in American 

Imaginatively re-creating their lives, Mallon 
tells the larger story of nineteenth-century- 
Victorian America: a society structured alxive 
supressed impulses and undercurrents that 
grew stronger as the century pmgressed. 
Softcover, 358 pages 
ISBN 0-312-13508-4 $13.00 



y Tony Hanvitz '80 

W'lien pri:e-\\'mning 
\\;ir coircspondent Tony 

_ _ . _ Muit: lLLi\es the 

L^^H|H^M l\ittletields of Bosnia and 
H^Q^^fflH the Middle East for a 
^""""""^^^peacetul corner of the Blue 
Ridge Mountains, he thinks he's put war 
zones behind him. But awakened one 
mornii^g by the crackle of musket fire, 
Horwit: starts filing front-line dispatches 
again - this time from a war close to htmie, 
and to his own heart. 
Propelled by his boyhood passion for the 
Civil War, Horwttz embarks on a search for 
places and people still held in thrall by 
America's greatest conflict. The result is an 
adventure into the soul of the unvanciuished 
South, where the ghosts of the Lost Cause 
are resurrected through ritual remembrance. 
Hardhoimd, 406 pagei 
ISBN 0-679-43'578-I $27.50 

Order these books or any books 24 
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_ (800-266-5766 ext. 1217) 

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Books Now. 448 East 6400 South, Suite 125, 

Salt Lake City, UT 84107 

cuts the medical objectification of the 
body, both tor the reader and tor the 
writer. This is especially important in the 
case of highly stigmatized illnesses such as 

Couser devotes extensive chapters to 
HIV/ AIDS, breast cancer, paralysis, and 
deafness, sensitively exploring the nature 
ot both stigma and responses to stigma 
in illness narratives. In the case of breast 
cancer, for example, Couser finds that 
autobiographical writing attempts to 
counter the association between the loss 
ot a breast and the loss ot femininity. 
The availability' ot prostheses and surgical 
breast reconstruction, he says, entbrces the 
idea that the female body following mas- 
tectomy is a mutilated object that must be 
hidden from society; writing about breast 
cancer effectively makes what is hidden 
visible again. 

The aftermath of breast surgery can 
be shocking both for the patient and for a 
reader. In an excerpt from An Eye With an 
I, tor example, Dorothea Lynch graphi- 
cally describes her tirst glimpse ot her 
body post-mastectomy: "1 look down at 
the purple black line, an eight-inch-long, 
puckered and black-stitched cut. There is 
a drainage tube stuck m a hole in my side. 
It is kept from tailing inside my body by 
a satety pin. The breast remaining is a 
surprise, its nipple pink as a girl's pout. 
Where I had expected a gaping hole and 
raw flesh, there is a little skin remaining - 
their attempt to leave as much as possible, 
('lean, necessary." 

The issues are difterent in lite writing 
about HIV/AIL^S, Couser finds. Autobio- 
graphical writing by AIDS victims is rarer 
than memoirs by grieving family mem- 
bers or surviving partners. Couser sug- 
gests this may be because of the way the 
disease "threatens one's sense that life has 
coherence, continuity, and extension." In 
Borrowed Time, Paul Monette describes 
this loss ot the future tense in terms ot his 
cmprs' appointment datebook: "It was as 
it the whole idea ot calendars had become 
a liorrible mockery." 

Although Couser writes about com- 
plex medical, social, literary, ancd political 
realities, his language is clear, concise, and 
engaging. His book, while highly analyti- 
cal, makes good use ot excerpts from 
|\ithographies to grounti his theories. 
liccoivriiii; Bodies provides a readable and 
intelligent analysis of recent illness narra- 
tives that is accessible to genera! readers as 
well as to literature specialists. 

/,(')■; Bilker's iiiosl receiil hooi^ is Crazy Water: 
Six Fictions. 

Briefly Noted 

The Undiscovered Country by Samantha 
Gillison '89 (Grove Press, 240 pages, S23). 
GiUison's debut novel, to be published 
in June, is a lean and captivating hybrid of 
domestic drama, adventure story, and 
travel narrative. Peter Campbell, a young 
research scientist, and June, his monied, 
insecure wife, travel to the jungles of 
Papua, New Guinea, with their seven- 
year-old daughter so Peter can investigate 
tropical diseases at June's expense. While 
Gillison's eye for detail results in a vivid 
portrait ot the novel's exotic setting, her 
sharp insights into the Campbells" rela- 
tionship remain squarely at the center of 
the novel. The young couple's descent 
into self-absorption and their twisted jus- 
tifications tor neglecting their daughter 
read with excruciating clarity. Not a word 
is wasted in this stunning first effort. 

nViif// of Aiit^els: The Aiiierii\ni Abortion War 
by James Risen '77 and Judy L.Thomas 
(Basic Books, 402 pages, $25). 

The LI.S. Supreme Court may have 
ruled on abortion rights in Roc v. Wade 
twenry-five years ago, but the debate has 
raged ever since. Risen and Thomas, 
reporters for the Los Angeh's Times and the 
Kansas City Star, respectively, chronicle 
the aiuiabortion movement since the late 
1960s. What started as a Catholic, left- 
leaning protest using peaceful civil dis- 
obedience, they assert, deteriorateci into 
violence. Recent shootings by zealots 
marked "the end of antiabortion activism 
as a significant political and cultural force 
in American society," the authors write. 

Theodore Roosevelt and tiie British Empire: A 
Study ill Presidential Statecraft by William 
Tilchin "92 Ph.D. (St. Martin's, 302 pages, 


This history of the twenty-sixth pres- 
ident's cultivation of Britain as a partner 
in world affairs offers unique insights. 
Drawing heavily on Roosevelt's corre- 
spondence, the author argues that Roo- 
se\'elt was, "in the foreign policy arena, 
probably the greatest of all U.S. presi- 
dents." Roosevelt achieved the construc- 
tion of the Panama Canal, played a crit- 
ical role in the settlement of the 1905 
Russo-Iapanese War, and was a key nego- 
tiator of a setdement between Germany 
and France over control of Morocco. 
Though occasionally dry, Tilchin's book 
111,1V make readers nostalgic tor a presi- 
dent who wasn't afraid to be opinionated 
and honest.- C.G. c^ 

32* MAY/ 1 u NP. 1 998 


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aIi ope IN 


For years, Brown was an imagined place 
I for Cedric Jennings 'gg. 

When he finally arrived on campus, though, 
the adjustments he faced were daunting 

■fc' and all too real. 



^ W # HAT THE HELL is Rob up to, Cedric 

%/%# wonders as he glances over at his 

T T roommate - a vision of preppy casu- 

ahiess ni his torn khaki shorts, Marblehead Yacht 

Club T-shirt, and sandals — hovering near Cedric s 

CD player like he's looking for something. 

"I really like this. I mean, it's growing on me," 
Rob finally says, snapping his fingers. "Who is it?" 

Cedric pushes aside his psychology textbook and 
looks over, astonished. "You hke it?!" he laughs. "No 

"Yeah. So . . . are you gonna tell me who it is or 
make me guess?" 

"It's Hezekiah Walker and the Love Fellowship 
Crusade Choir. The song is called 'I'll Fly Away' " 

" 'rU Fly Away,' " Rob says, nodding meaningfliUy 
as he turns to go. "It's, you know, great." 

The dooi slams, and Cedric leans back in his 
chair, bemused, shaking his fireshly shaven head. Rob 
has actually been borrowing some of Cedric's CDs 

M A\ }Vfji-. I yyS 


A Hope in the 

The Freshman 


n 1994, Wall Street Journal reporter Ron Suskind stopped 

by the principal's office in Washington, D.C.'s Frank W. Bal- 

lou High School in search of students striving for educational 

excellence amid discouraging circumstances. There he overheard a young man 
arguing loudly for a higher grade in a computer science class. "Who," demanded 
Suskind as soon as the boy had left, "was that?" 

That was Cedric Jennings, an ambitious fifteen-year-old, the poor son of a 
clerical worker and a jailed drug dealer, who desperately wanted to make it not 
only to college, but to an elite four-year institution. Suskind chronicled Cedric's 
quest in a pair of articles that earned him a Pulitzer Prize in 1995. When Cedric was admitted to 
Brown's class of 1999, Suskind continued the project as a book centering on Cedric's freshman 
year. The result is A Hope in the Unseen, published this May by Broadway Books. 

Cedric's transition from inner city to Ivy League is predictably daunting. Academically, his self- 
confidence is shattered. Culturally, this product of an all-black neighborhood and a religious 
upbringing must learn to decode an alien world whose signposts, from Sylvia Plath to Jerry Garcia, 
are only dimly familiar. 

Cedric must also bridge chasms of race and class to find common ground with people like Rob 
(not his real name), the roommate with whom he spends much of the year feuding; Zayd, a fel- 
low rap-music aficionado who becomes Cedric's first white friend; and Chiniqua, the only other 
black freshman in Cedric's unit (and his occasional date). 

As our excerpt begins, it is spring, and Cedric is beginning to hit his stride. 

lately, and Cedric is developing a passing interest m 
Alanis Morissette, one of Rob's favorites. Crazy. 

April, he decides as he cranks Hezekiah a notch, 
is turning out to be his best month, even if it's only 
one week old. He's still daydreaming about his Friday 
night out with Chiniqua. Meanwhile, all's well with 
Zayd, who beat him last night in Supernintendo - 
on Cedric's TV, at that. Word is out that the marquee 
musical act for Spring Weekend in two weeks is the 
Fugees, so they joyously blasted the group's music in 
honor of the announcement and talked until late, 
first in Cedric's room and then in Zayd's. The fact 
that Zayd got the band's first CD last year, when they 
were unknown, combined with Cedric's casual aside 
last winter that he thought the group's curious mix 
of hip-hop and soul and rock was at best "derivative," 
gives Zayd bragging rights on having discovered 
them first. He's crowing over this small victory, 
something that would have irritated Cedric a few 
months back. But not so much anymore, Cedric 
muses, closing psychology for today and stretching 
some kinks out of his lower back. That Zayd gets 
straight A's and has pretty fair musical tastes doesn't 
necessarily say anything about Cedric. 

Everything seems to be getting easier. He recalls 
last semester, when whatever the other kids said or 
did, the way they acted and addressed him - or, for 
that matter, ignored him - felt like some form of 
slight. A judgment on his unworthiness. Cedric's not 
sure what, specifically, has changed, but actions and 
words, in the dorm or the cafeteria or the classroom, 
seem to carry less weight, less personal charge. 


^^^k pring, of course, is the season most suited 
m ^ to college life - to the budding senses of 
^^^r nascent adults, to the carefiree promise of 
growth, to the far-from-home feeling of being 
unbound. Especially in universities of the north, 
where winters can come hard, the tit is so neat that 
it's even possible to believe that sun and warmth and 
soft grass possess transformative powers. 

.And Brown, in the mid-April lull ber^veen mid- 
terms and finals, is bursting with flora on the freshly 
cut main green and with students convinced that 
they are, finally, at their best. 

The University's otTicially designated party week- 

36 ♦ M A Y / J u N L I 9 y S 

end, with at least one big-nanie musical act, starts 
next week, on Thursday, April l8, a week before the 
reading period for final exams. But Spring Weekend 
also draws townies from Providence, along with kids 
from colleges in Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and 
other states along the East Coast, a crushing crowd of 
outsiders that alters Browns social character. Instead, 
it"s this weekend. April 12 and 13. that many students 
consider the true pinnacle of Brown parrying, a 
weekend when all quarters of the University seem to 
be working furiously to entertain themselves, turning 
the campus into a vast progressive dinner party, with 
each house on the street serving a different dish. 
At lunch in the Refectory after Friday calculus. 

Chiniqua mentioned 

fugal terms, as something designed to distill and sep- 
arate rather than unite. Now he knows it's more 
complicated. Walking back to the dorm, he thinks 
again of his date with Chiniqua, of them talking 
about R&B artist Keith Sweat and laughing and 
reminiscing. There is an almost irresistible comfort to 
being with your own, being able to share what's 
common and familiar, to be with someone who 
really understands. Throughout high school, he spent 
so much energy trying to get away from people like 
him; now he sometimes feels the opposite urge, the 
urge to find others who are at least somewhat like 
him, which is really all that the gays or the Latinos or 
the Asians are seeking.This morning, Chiniqua men- 

a party tomorrow night at Brown's 
one black dorm. Cedric thought: I didn't come to Brown to be 
with only black people. I've already done that. 

Cedric picks at his macaroni and cheese with one 
hand and, with the other, at a pile of three-by-five- 
inch squares of colored paper: little, shove-in-your- 
pocket fliers that campus groups disseminate to 
advertise events. Today the table is blanketed, making 
for good lunchtime reading. 

The gays and lesbians are staging a weekend of 
parties, culminating in the "Vote Queer, Eat Dinner" 
fete on Sunday evening for "TNT, LGBTA, BITE, 
and all other queer folks" to parr>' and elect officers. 
The Students of Caribbean Ancestry call one and all 
to their SOCA Cookup '96 because, a pink flier 
boasts, "Dis Food Nice!" while a nearby yellow flier 
shouts: "Celebrate Latino History Month with this 
. . . Salsa! Meringue! Cumbia! Free Sangria, Beer and 

A white flier trumpets "A CAPPELLOOZA II," 
an a cappella competition that lots of kids 111 
Cedric's unit will be going to - Zayd's roommate, 
John Frank, will be singing with the Brown Derbies. 
Under it is a pale yellow one about tonight's Brown 
University Chamber Ensemble at Alumnae Hall. 
There are plenty more - announcing Friday and 
Saturday bashes by fraternities and feminists and any- 
one else you can imagine - that Cedric glances at 
and dismisses as he rises with his tray. 

The multicultural miasma, with its fixation on 
group identify and loyalrv' and authenticity, still 
unsettles him, though not quite as much as when he 
arrived last fall. Back then, he saw it solely in centri- 

tioned a blowout party tomorrow night at Harambee 
House, Brown's lone black dorm, and Cedric consid- 
ers, as he has ten times today, whether to go. He calls 
forth, also for the tenth time today, his one-line 
rebuttal: I didn 'l come to Bivwn lo be with only black peo- 
ple. I've already done that. 

Later, back in the room, Cedric and Rob 
talk amiably, still a welcome change after 
the long months of strife. Rob says he's 
staying in tonight - or at least has committed to - 
considering that he still "feels completely whipped" 
from Funk Night at the Underground, Brown's stu- 
dent-run club. Cedric knows why Rob is mention- 
ing the Underground. Last night, Cedric almost went 
with the regular Thursday night delegation from the 
dorm. It was all very natural. Rob asked him to come 
along. Cedric said sure, and Rob nodded like it was 
no big deal, even though both of them knew it was. 
The Underground, especially on Thursdays, has been 
the dormitory crew's most regular haunt. Ceclric has 
been asked to go dozens of times. He's always 
demurred and later heard stories of drunkenness and 
wild dancing. In one way or another, he's let people 
know, starting around September, that it's the last 
place someone who doesn't drink and doesn't dance 
(at least not in public) would want to be - precisely 
the sort of place, in fact, that Bishop Long, his Wash- 
ington pastor, and his mother have spent two decades 
warning him about. 


Such warnings ultimately made their last stand ni 
the line that formed last night outside the door of 
the dark, noisy, subterranean cave, a line in which 
Cedric was waiting behind five other kids from the 
hall — and then suddenly he wasn't. 

"You were there, right behind me," Zeina told 
hnn at breakfast this morning. "Then I turned 
aroiuid and you'd vanished." 

The whole thing, already lore 
throughout the hall, was just plain em- 
barrassing. Cedric, grateful Rob didn't 
directly razz him about it, rises to get a 
piece of Wrigley's spearmint gum from 
his desk and looks out the window, 
thinking it all through again and realizing 
how his stern, righteous solitude of last 
semester must have just looked like terror 
to everyone else, like someone afraid to 
join the world. Afraid - afraid o{ wbal? 

Rob sends oft some scatological 
e-mail to a high school friend at the Uni- 
versiry of Massachusetts and, swiveling in 
his desk chair, rosy with delight from 
composing his missive, asks Cedric if 
he's going to go to the "Sexual Assault 
and Spring Weekend" dorm outreach in 
a few days. " 'Cause, you know, it could 
be pretty interesting, how, without even knowing it, 
you can get into a bad situation." 

He's just making conversation, but Cedric, des- 
perate to shore up the miserable image of how he 
fled from the nightclub line, reaches for a cold bucket 
of rectitude, one of those discussion-enders his 
mother used to summon when dangerous issues 
arose: "I think it's really simple with sex assault or 
whatever. It's like AIDS. You have sex one time, you 
can get AIDS, so you just don't do it. S,ame with sex 
assault: you don't try having se.x, you won't have to 
worry about something like that happening." 

Rob looks at him, clearly befuddled. "But vou 
can't go through life not trying anything. What's the 
point of that?" And Cedric, feeling suddenly trans- 
parent, folds with a glum "Whatever." 

His real response, for wh.u it's worth, comes later 
that night, when his friend Molly, a fast-morphing, 
once-bald modern dancer, knocks on his door and 
asks him to come with her to the Underground to 
see some local comedians. He shrugs. He's got noth- 
ing better to do, he says. It ends up being a cinch this 
time to just stroll in, so much easier than last night, 
when he could feel all those kids from the unit won- 
dering if he'd pull it off. He sits down at a table with 
her and his tall glass of ginger ale, dead center in a 
room tilled mostly with white kids drinking watery 
beer, and waits for some expected discomfort to tade. 

Or rather, to arrive. After a few minutes and 
a second ginger ale, though, he realizes that nothing 
untoward is bound to happen and that, instead, he 
feels loose and sort of relaxed here with the always- 
provocative Molly. Soon enough, he's laughing at the 
comedians with everyone else, having completely 
forgotten to consider how he must look. 

Cedric and his mother, Barbara, who raised her children 
alone after her husband abandoned the family. His mother, 
Cedric says, gave him the faith to succeed. 


■ ust atter noon on Saturday, Cedric rolls into 
H a column ot sunlight that has crept onto his 
W pillow and stirs awake. Lying in bed, barely 
^^ conscious, he tries to remember the swift- 
flowing sensations troiii the night before. No use. 
After a few minutes, he gives up, able to conjure only 
a hazy recollection of himself, sitting in the smoky 
nightclub, feet cleaving to the beer-sticky floor, head 
back, mouth foolishly open in a hoot. 

He snaps upright, trying to shake the image away. 
After a moment he's surprised to tind his thoughts 
racing back to an in-class writing assignment on his 
first day of school last fall - a first-person autobiog- 
raphy for his Richard Wright seminar. He started it: 
"Who is Cedric? I am a very ambitious and very 
religious person." But, sitting here, he thinks it seems 
to have been written with someone else's hand, 
someone he barely knows. Looking down at the 
hands resting on his thighs, he feels a sensation of 
fVeefall and raises his palms to cover his eyes. "Who is 
Cedric?" he murmurs. "Who is Cedric?" 

An hour later, he's walking briskly down an 

1 S ♦ .MAY/j UNi; lyy S 

extension of Thayer Street, where the fashionable 
shops give way to multi-family housing, and then 
cuts left toward a working-class section ot town. He 
needs to get away from the University, to clear his 
head, to get his bearings. 

Cedric has ventured a few times before to this 
part of Providence, beyond the Georgian brick 
homes of lawyers and professors: fifteen or so square 
blocks of turn-of-the-century row houses and squat 
apartments, broken by clusters of solo proprietor- 
ships, jewelers, drug stores, and barbers, in buildings 
charging modest rent. It's urban and a little griiny. As 
he walks, he feels solemn and a touch heroic, as he 
used to feel strolling Martin Luther King Boulevard 
in his nernhborhood inW;ishint^ton. 

He wonders, instead, if his father is still doing drugs 
(Cedric s mother, Barbara, once said there are plenty of 
drugs in jail), and whether the drugs make GiUiam sick. 

He begins a meandering walk, here and there, 
stretching for hours. Just walking, trying to keep his 
bearings through unfamiliar streets, feeling edgy and 
contemplative and a little wild. At a mom-and-pop 
jeweler, he tries on some white gold rings he can't 
afford (a nice complement, though, to the pimp coat) 
and then, at a nearby corner, approaches a man idling 
at a red light in his cream Infmiti Q30. 

"I love that car. How much does it cost?" Cedric 
asks, approaching the open driver's-side window. 

"Umm, about S.S.S,ooo," stammers the man, a 
pudg)', white, fifryish guy with salt-and-pepper hair 

Who is Cedric? 

I am a very ambitious and very religious 
person." But, sitting here, he thinks his words have been written 
with someone else's hand, someone he barely knows. 

Just past a fenced park where some homeless men 
are splayed on wrought-iron chairs is a boxy brick 
building, the Salvation Army's local headquarters. 
Cedric ducks into the thrift store on the first floor, 
lingering at a trash can full of scratched skis, then one 
with tennis rackets, before losing himself in aisles ot 
men's overcoats and plaid sport jackets, picking 
through them expertly. Eventually he emerges onto 
the street in a beige wool overcoat with a high, 
turned-up collar (a real pimp jacket, he thinks, tor 
only $15) and struts a few blocks to some shops clus- 
tered around a pizza joint with outdoor tables. The 
sun, spotty until now, breaks clear, so he buys a ginger 
ale and sits in the empty row of chairs. Turning lett, 
he catches his reflection in the plate glass window. 
His thoughts turn to his father, Gilliam. He looks a 
little like GiUiam now, especially in the coat - or 
rather the way GiUiam used to look, all slender and 
stylish, when Cedric was a kid. 

The vision is both alluring and unnerving, but he 
indulges it, thinking of what Gilliam might be look- 
ing at these days (back in prison after a good long 
drink of freedom) and hov/ difl-lcult it will be for his 
father to tind solid work when he gets out, whenever 
that will be. He'll have to start a business or some- 
thing, Cedric decides, because who would hire him? 
"1 wouldn't," he mumbles to himself and laughs 
hoarsely. He abandoned me at the start and then did 
it again and again, Cedric reflects, trying, with litde 
success, to muster his customary rage on the subject. 

who then steps on the gas, as though he's worried 
Cedric's next request will be for the keys. Cedric just 
watches the rounded back end speed away. 

"Wow," he murmurs, "got to have one of those 

As the afternoon wanes, he circles in a wide arc 
back toward campus. Reviewing his curious, searching 
day, he wonders about why he needed to get away on 
his own and reminisce. After a bit, a line pops into his 
head that he first heard in high school during black- 
history month. Hell, thinking back, he's probably 
used this quote in a half-dozen papers. It's one of 
those classics firom W.E.B. Du Bois, the one about the 
black man having no "true self-consciousness" but 
rather a "double-consciousness," which Du Bois says 
is a "sense of always looking at one's self through the 
eyes of others, of measuring one's soul by the tape of 
a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity." 

He chews on this for a while, turning it over in 
his head, and finds himself agreeing with the basic 
idea of blacks having a "double consciousness," but 
wondering if seeing yourself "through the eyes ot 
others," which everyone, after all, does to some 
degree, means you can't also have a true selt- 
consciousness. He feels like he's getting one of those 
- a truer, clearer sense of himself - as he finally 
pushes forward out of his solitude and mistrust, 
through his thicket of fears and doubts. Part of that 
process, he figures, must include days like today, 
when he's forced to backtrack through a thrift shop 


3 9 

Trust, Respect, and Battles Won 

edric Jennings feels lucky. Dodging bullets 
and drug dealers, he emerged from one of 
the toughest schools in inner-city Washington, 

D.C, with an acceptance letter to Brown. As A Hope In the 
Unseen makes clear, he is a survivor; but Jennings says his 
struggle not to succumb to the crime or drugs that have 
tempted so many is not unique. "I have been blessed with 
this recognition," he says of the book, "but I'm sure not the 
only black male out there who's fighting these battles." 

There aren't many kids from poor, urban neighborhoods 
at the University, but even fewer are followed day and 
night by a Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter from the Wall Street 
Journal. Ron Suskind went to class with Jennings, spoke with 
him on the phone on days when he wasn't on campus, and 
- as seen in the excerpt on these pages - he hung out in 
Jennings's dorm room, went to parties with him, and accom- 
panied him on long, ambling walks through Providence's 
East Side. 

Since the events Suskind relates in his book, Jennings 
has settled more comfortably into academic life and is begin- 
ning to consider what will follow his years at Brown. He con- 
tinues to study mathematics and education, and this semes- 
ter he has been an exchange student at Tougaloo College jn 
Mississippi. Jennings plans to go to graduate school in busi- 
ness before he moves on to his real passion: teaching math 
to eighth- and twelfth-grade students. Why those grades? 
"Because that's when I'had my best teachers," he explains. 

First, however, Jennings will run a daunting media gaunt- 
let with Suskind. Shortly 'after Suskind appears at a Brown 
Commencement Forum, Jennings will join him for a national 
book tour, punctuated by television appearances on Cood 
Morning America and Nightllne. 

Jennings and Suskind have become close friends; each 
has worked hard to earn the respect and trust of the other. 
Though Jennings finds it difficult to read certain sections of 
the book - especially those having to do with his father - he 
IS proud of what they have accomplished together, and he 
credits Suskind for his tenacity in trying to see America 
through the eyes of an African American. "By virtue of him 
being a white guy, there are things he just couldn't see," Jen- 
nings says. "But a lot of black folk think you can't even try. 
Ron came really, really, really, really close, and he should be 
given credit for that. What he did is a sign of being able to 
build bridges" - Chad Gaits 

of nieniories where, no doubt, some demons are 
hidmg m the racks. Who knows: maybe slaying those 
demons is the reason he has to keep going back. 

He's back near the Salvation Army now, only six 
or seven blocks from campus, and up ahead is the 
Eastside Marketplace, an mdependent supermarket 
that he's visited a few times to buy food. Finals will 
start in a couple of weeks, and he figures this is a 
good time to load up on provisions, cheap and bulky 
tare for when he gets hungry, studying late — some- 
thing to sustain him in a pinch. Walking across the 
parking lot, Cedric suddenly laughs out loud, causing 
a passing lady to stare. He realizes that what he really 
needs is Oodles ot Noodles. A couple boxes. The 
dread Oodles (a staple to stave otl starvation in the 
lean days ot his youth, a dish he swore he'd never, 
ever buy when he grew up) are what he teels a sud- 
den craving for. He may even down a bowl when he 
gets back to the ctcirm. 

Andrews is bustling, everyone rev- 
ving up for Saturday night. Cedric, 
striding through with his bag of groceries, feels curi- 
ously renewed from his journey, ready now tor 
almost anything. Balancing the groceries on his knee, 
the pimp jacket on his arm, he grabs the pen dan- 
gling from Chiniqua's grease pad and writes, "Hey, 
what time's that parrv at Harambee tonight? Call me. 

The groceries are barely unpacked onto his closet 
shelves when the phone rings. 


40 ♦ MAY/JUNh 191)8 

"Cedric? It's me, Clarence. I'm in 

"Mr. Taylor?! What are you doing 
here?" Clarence Taylor is Cedric's chem- 
istry teacher and devoted mentor from 
high school. Without the relentless prod- 
ding and encouragement from this bear- 
like, deeply religious man, Cednc would 
almost certainly never have made it to 

"I stopped through on mv way to the 
marathon, you know, in Boston. I'm so 
happy I got you." 

They make a plan to meet, and Cedric 
hangs up, thoroughly astonished. What a 
day, past and present colliding, and now 
Clarence Taylor! Fifteen minutes later, on 
the tar side ot Brown's main green, he 
spots a white Cutlass Ciera and breaks 
into a trot. 

"Cedric Jennings, as I live and breathe," the 
teacher shouts. 

"I always imagined 

the unseen as a place, 
a place I couldn't yet see, up ahead, where I'd 
be welcomed and accepted, just for who I am. 

"Oh Gawwd. Mr. Taylor. I can't believe you're 
here," Cedric says, panting, and they hug, the student 
now towering over his old teacher. 

"My oh my, you're really growing up. Look at 
you," exults Mr. Taylor. Cedric has never seen 
Clarence in this context — sloppily casual in his 
hooded gray sweatshirt, jeans, anci sandals with no 
socks, far from home and with his wife, who nods 
politely from the far side of the car. 

After Clarence grills him a bit on academics and 
Cedric talks a little about his searching day, Clarence 
opens the car door. "I got something for you." He 
reaches into the back seat, behind the Styrofoam 
Gatorade cooler and a bag ot pretzels, and pulls out a 
Bible-study magazine. "Here, I brought this." 

Cedric looks at it blankly and says earnestly, "I'll 
read it as soon as I get back." 

Clarence looks over at his wife and tells Cedric, 
"We're going to have to get going soon," but his visit 
wouldn't be complete without a recitation. He's been 
saving this one up. 

Cedric smiles benignly as Clarence plunges into 
Romans, chapter 8, verse 35: "Whoooooo." he 

intones, "shall separate us from the love of Christ? 
Shall tribulation or distress, or persecution, or 
famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is writ- 
ten: 'For Your sake we are killed all day long; we are 
accounted as sheep for the slaughter.' " He pauses for 
dramatic etTect, preparing the punchline. "Yet in all 
these things we are more than concjuerors through 
Him who loved us." 

Nodding along with each verse, Cedric knows 
Mr. Taylor wants him to say something, something 
profound and scriptural. "Well, Mr. Taylor, you cer- 
tainly got every word ot that one from Romans 
right," Cedric says, mostly to fill the silence. "But, 
you know, I think I like it better when you get a few 
words wrong, like you used to." Clarence's expectant 
smile fades a bit, anci Cedric says the thing that just 
dawned on him. "Remember when we were in your 
classroom that time, and LaTisha was busting me 
about putting all my faith in making it to the Ivy 
League, to a place I'd never seen, where I might not 
be welcomed? And you said that thing, remember? 
About faith, you know, how the substance of faith is 
a hope in the unseen? You 
botched it and all, but in a 
good way," he says as 
Clarence squints, trying to 
bring the memory into 
focus. But Cedric pushes 
toi-ward - there's almc:)St no 
one else he can tell this to. 
""Well, thing is, I always 
imagined the unseen as a 
place, a place I couldn't yet see, up ahead, where I'd 
be welcomed and accepted, just for who I am. And 1 
still feel like it is a place, an imagined place, really, 
either here or somewhere else, that I'll get to some- 
day. But first, you know, now I realize that there's 
work I need to do, too. I need to know - to really 
know - who I am, and accept who I am, deal with 
some ot my own issues. That's got to come first, 
before I can expect other people to accept me. The 
good thing, though, is that it seems like I'm just now 
coming into focus to myself- you know, beginning 
to see myself more clearly." 

Clarence looks at him tenderly, wanting, it seems, 
to second Cedric's insight. "The unseen may be a 
place in your heart," he says cheerily. "Well, God 
bless." They hug again, promise to write, and soon 
the Cutlass is on its way to Boston and Cedric is 
strolling buoyantly back toward the dorm. He dis- 
carcis the Bible magazine on a stoop on the Green - 
maybe someone else needs it - and looks up, think- 
ing he smells a coming rain, cv^ 

From A Hope in the Unseen (Broadway Books). 


4 1 

4 2 ♦ MAY /JUNE I 9i;S 

B Y 



The natural world of south Florida 
is dying. Robert Halley '71 Sc.M. 
and Steven Miller ^'jd are part 
of an army of scientists trying to 
figure out why. 


H londa is our southeastern frontier, the elon- 

J^m gated big toe of North America testing the 
waters of imagination and excess. Its where children 
revel in Walt Disney's calculating empire of cartoon fan- 
tasy, where men and women begin their trips through 
weightlessness to the moon and stars, where the old go 
to fish and golf and prepare themselves for the sweet 

The southern tip ot Florida is nature's analogue to 
this man-made world of overheated whimsy. The region 
contains the Everglades, a landscape of shifting light and 
penetrating smells, an extravagant canvas for the diver- 
sity of life, unruly and largely inaccessible without con- 
siderable effort. In biogeographic terms, south Florida's 
dark mangrove creeks and ancient cypress swamps, its 
eye-bending sawgrass prairies and soupy estuaries sit 
precisely where the temperate meets the tropical, creat- 
ing the nation's only subtropical wilderness. A canoe 
moving through the brackish primordial soup of a south 
Florida mangrove creek at the right time of year cuts 
through so many newborn fish that their roiling mimics 
the sight and sound of rain falling on water. 

South Florida has historically been the hiding place 
of defiant Indian tribes, runaway slaves, moonshiners, 
drug smugglers, and murderers — not to mention alliga- 
tors, crocodiles, poisonous snakes, and more than a 
dozen species of mosquitoes. For most of its history, the 
region has been an emblem ot the untamed run amok, a 
wasteland made all the sweeter for having been drained. 

cut, straightened, poisoned, and burned into the cities of 
Miami and West Palm Beach. 

For 300 years, this industry ot elevating the primitive 
into the civilized has coexisted with - and mostly over- 
whelmed - the persistent notion that the natural world 
of south Florida is not primitive but is, in fact, one of 
the most magnificent works of either God (at first) or 
evolution (more recently). To the few who, until 
recently, ventured into it, the Everglades was, as Marjory 
Stoneman Douglas described it in her 1947 classic. The 
Everglades: Riivr of Gnus, "one of the unique regions of 
the earth, remote, never wholly known." 

It was in response to this other view of south Florida 
that in 1947 the federal government established Ever- 
glades National Park and, in later years, set aside other 
preserves in the Big Cypress to the north and at Key 
Biscayne and the Tortugas to the south. Yet, as it was 
shielding small portions of south Florida from the 
developers and speculators, the government, through 
the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, was also becoming 
the region's chief despoiler, digging canals to drain the 
land and straightening and "channelizing" the Kissim- 
mee River at the head of the south Florida ecosystem. 
The Corps' masterpiece, however, came on line in the 
early 1960s, when it finished the historic Central and 
Southern Florida Flood Control Project: 1,400 miles of 
canals and levees, 150 gates and spillways, and sixteen of 
the largest pumping stations the world had ever seen. 
The constantly shifting sheet flow of fresh water through 
the Everglades - which was once 100 miles long and 
forty miles wide - was now transformed into a uniform 
"schedule of water deliveries" designed to produce the 
predictabihrv' required for large-scale agriculture and for 
suburbs that don't periodically revert to swamps. 

The ecological damage this schedule would produce 
was immediately apparent. In 1962, when a prolonged 
drought followed the completion of the Corps' project, 
the combination so reduced the amount of water flow- 
ing into Everglades National Park that managers desper- 
ately dynamited holes in the limestone to create pools 
for alligators, which were rapidly disappearing. In 1994, 
John Ogden, then a biologist with the park, estimated 
that the number of v^-ading birds nesting there had 
declined by 95 percent since the 1930s. By the time of 
Ogden's study, agriculture and urban sprawl had re- 
duced the area covered by the Everglades by half "We 
once had an ecosystem that we called the Everglades," 
Ogden is fond of saying. "Now we have a big wetland 
out there, and we still call it the Everglades. But it's not." 

The Everglades is only the most famous example ot 
what has been happening to all of south Florida, from 
Lake Okeechobee down through the Florida Keys and 
the coral reef just offshore. Alarmed at the decline, 
national environmental groups have joined local ones to 




BAY .y 



form organizations such as the Everglades Coahtion, 
which has been steadfastly working to restore the area's 
biological heritage. By the early 1990s, south Florida 
had become the focus of the largest environmental 
restoration project ever attempted, a project that will 
eventually cost billions of dollars. Even the channelized 
Kjssimmee River will be released, allowed to return to 
its ancient route. Ironically, helping to lead the way for 
all this is the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. 


I ^L obert Halley '71 Sc.M. and Steven Miller '75 
J^ ^^were among the scientists drawn to this 
dream of restoration in the late 19S0S and early 1990s. 
Born in different parts of the United States and special- 
ists in different scientific disciplines, they are united by 
two things: their time at Brown and their love tor south 
Florida's natural world. 

Of the two, Halley has more e.xperience in the Sun- 
shine State. A twenty-three-year veteran of the U.S. 
Geological Survey (USGS), he spent the first six years as 
a scientist based in Miami and the next six years in Den- 
ver before being sent to the Woods Hole Oceano- 
graphic Institute on Cape Cod. In the 1980s, as the 
USGS responded to public concern about the condition 
of the environment, it sent Halley to Woods Hole to 
help develop a coastal program to complement its 
research on ocean geology. 

Halley faced a similar task when, in 19S9, he moved 
from Woods Hole to St. Petersburg, Florida, and, with 
five colleagues, opened the USGS's national coastal cen- 
ter. One immediate assignment was to analyze Florida's 

complex coastline and the limestone that, among other 
things, contains most of the region's fresh water. Today 
the ofTice employs a staff of fifty. HaUey, who also holds 
an adjunct faculty appointment in the departments of 
geology and marine sciences at the nearby University of 
South Florida, has meanwhile become a USGS repre- 
sentative on the interagency committee monitoring the 
research conducted tor the south Florida restoration. 

Although Halley still must handle the occasional man- 
agerial project, in 1992 he gladly transferred the admin- 
istration of the south Florida office to others so he could 
return to his first love: science. "I did my undergraduate 
work at Oberlin," he says, "and was a premed student 
until the spring of 1968. Then, in 1969, we landed the 
first astronaut on the moon, and geology suddenly be- 
came a big thing. I was hooked." What fascinated him, 
he says, is the sense of time geology opens up, of the dis- 
tant past hidden in today's rocks. "I think it was [anthro- 
pologist] Loren Eiseley who said that geology's real con- 
tribution to mankind is this concept of geological time," 
Halley explains. "No other field except astronomy has 
such a sense of time. You can pick up a rock and in it is 
information on the way things were a million years ago. 
We don't normaUy think about time like that." 

Halley 's love of geology blossomed at Brown and 
continued through his Ph.D. work at the State Univer- 
sity of New York at Stony Brook. As a master's candidate 
at Brown, he specialized in the study of limestone under 
his adviser, Leo LaPorte, who later left Brown tor the 
University of California at Santa Cruz. But Halley's 
greatest intellectual influence was Professor Emeritus of 
Geological Sciences John Imbrie, who, he says, "is one 
of those amazingly original people who influences a 
whole generation of scientists." Imbrie pioneered tech- 
niques of taking sediments from the ocean bottom and, 
by analyzing microscopic fossils, reconstructing ancient 
environments and climates. Those techniques are central 
to Halley's Florida work. 

Halley's focus is Florida Bay, the Sso-square-mile 
estuary that lies between the tip of peninsular Florida 
and the Florida Keys. Protected by the Keys, the bay has 
a bottom that is a complex mosaic of mud banks and 
shallow depressions. Some mud banks are so close to the 
surface that red mangroves grow on them. These further 
shield the depressions 111 the bay, which are, in effect, 
petri dishes full of rich, subtropical broth of various 
salinities. It would be difTicult to overexaggerate the 
biological productivity of Florida Bay. It is a major nurs- 
ery for fish in the Gulf of Mexico and a feeding ground 
for millions of birds ranging in size from least terns to 
greater flamingos. 

Unfortunately, Florida Bay is also the last stop in the 
south Florida ecosystem. Before south Florida was 
drained for development, water moved in a slow-mov- 
ing seasonal ballet from Lake Okeechobee down 

44 • MAY/JUNi; 199S 

through 100 miles ot Everglades and into the bay. As the 
fresh water moved south, it acted as a huge solar collec- 
tor, producing abundant energy to fuel a food chain ot 
breathtaking biological diversity. It also seeped down 
through the peaty Everglades soil and into the lime- 
stone, recharging the Biscayne Aquifer, which is the 
water supply for most of south Florida. When at last the 
remaining water reached Florida Bay, it combined with 
the ocean water surging upward from the Caribbean to 

South Florida had become the focus 
of the largest environmental restoration 
project ever attempted, a project that 
will eventually cost billions of dollars 

,y_ provide just the right saltiness for turtle grass to grow 

along much of its bottom and fuel the rich food chain 
based there. 

Since the completion of the Corps of Engineers' 
massive flood control project in the early 1.960s, much 
less fresh water has been making it to Florida Bay. This 
was largely unnoticed until the late 1980s, when salt lev- 
els in the bay rose so high that vast areas of turtle grass 
began to die. In hydrological jargon, the bay went 
"hypersaline," with disastrous results. 

Until this century, water during the wet season spilled over the 
south rim of Lake Okeechobee and into a plain of sawgrasss 
100 miles long, forty miles wide, and only a few inches deep. 
Even today, the water in the Everglades appears still; in fact it 
is slowly moving south to Florida Bay. 

Publicity about the decline of Florida Bay led to 
wider concern about what had happened to the Ever- 
glades and all of south Florida. Many were quick to 
blame the ecological crash on almost thirty years of 
altered hydrology. But scientists were not so sure. If there 
is one characteristic that distinguishes south Florida's 
ecosystem, it is change. On various temporal and spatial 
scales, conditions are constandy shifting, from day to 
day, season to season, year to year, decade to decade, and 
probably beyond. One reason, in fact, that birds are so 
successful 111 south Florida is that its landscape appears 
to them as a buffet table continually being refreshed. If a 
bird's feeding area changes or becomes fished out, there 
is always someplace within easy flying distance that is 
just reaching its peak. 

Could it be, scientists are still asking, that the 
changes in Florida Bay, though catastrophic to the bio- 
logical conditions we have become accustomed to, are 
part of a larger natural cycle that we don't yet under- 
stand? Robert Halley's research is intended to answer 
such questions. "When ecologists started asking 'What's 
wrong with Florida Bay?' one of the first questions was: 
what did it used to be like? If you are trying to restore 
an ecosystem, you have to know what you are restor- 



There are so many examples of our going 
in to try to restore nature," says Steven Miller. 
"There are so many examples when we've 
been burned." 

ing it to. We are taking the same techniques that John 
Inibrie pioneered to study what an area looked like 
hundreds of thousands of years ago and using them to 
figure out what it looked like 150 years ago." 

Halley and his colleagues take mud-core samples 
trom Florida Bay and then measure "proxies" in the 
mud. In this case, proxies are various isotopes that once 

Aquarius, the world's only underwater laboratory, rests on the 
Florida reef tract a few miles offshore from Key Largo, Florida, 
in sixty feet of water. It allows up to six scientists to study the 
reef for ten days without surfacing. 

circulated in the water and got locked into the shells of 
mollusks and of a single-celled protozoan called 
fomininifaa, or, simply, forams. As the forams died, they 
piled up in the sediment, storing in their shells clues 
about the ecology of the bay at the time ot their death. 
"The isotopes of oxygen," Halley says, "are proxies for 
temperature and salinity. The carbon isotopes are a 
proxy for biological productivity and can also tell us a 
lot about where the water at the time might have come 
trom." Already, the work of Halley and his colleagues has 
revealed that a similar increase in salinity occurred in 
the 1930s. Was that a natural change? It so happens that 
the 1930s were when the first big successful drainage 
projects were under way in the Everglades; was the 
increase in salinity triggered by that? The most plausible 
theory so far is that the uncontrolled drainage of the 
first half of this century has so weakened Florida Bay It cm no longer absorb natural events such as pro- 
longed drought. But the mystery ivni.uns unsolved. 


^ teven Miller faces a similar conundrum at his 
"^ (^ base in Key Largo, where he directs the Florida 
Keys research program for the University of North Car- 
olina at Wilmington's National Undersea Research 
Center. Funded by the National Oceanic and Atmos- 
pheric Administration (NOAA), the undersea research 
program has six centers around the countrv: the one in 
Wilmington covers the entire Southeast, including the 

Just as Robert Halley is trying to sort out the reasons 
tor the ecosystem decline in Florida Bay, Miller, a marine 
biologist, is helping lead an etlort to examine why coral 
diversity on the 220-mile-long Florida reef tract has 
been slipping downward over the past two decades. Like 
many reefs in the Caribbean and other parts of the 
world, the Florida reet, which is actually a series of 
ridges and channels running trom Miami to the Dry 
Tortugas, has been suffering from "bleaching," which 
describes what happens when corals under stress expel 
the algae they need to provide nourishment. "It does 
appear," Miller says, "that abundance and distribution ot 
coral disease have increased over the last few years. But 
is the increase a result of increased stress, and if so, what 
are the causes ot that stress?" Some scientists have argued 
that the culprit could be global warming or an increase 
in nutrients transported by the oceans from increasingly 
developed coastlines. But such connections are tar trom 
proven, and in the case of the Florida reef tract, the area 
has been so poorly studied that even fundamental data 
are only now being gathered. The Florida Keys research 
program, tor example, was begun only in 1991 . 

Miller's route to south Florida was more circuitous 
th,in Halley 's. After attending high school in Minneapo- 
lis, he entered Brown intending to become a medical 
doctor. "The New Curriculum attracted me to Brown," 
he recalls. "And one of my science teachers strongly 
encouraged me to go. But I came from a public high 
school where you didn't work very hard and did real 
well, and when I got to Brown I learned that the same 
level of effort wiU get you nowhere." In other words, he 
adds, "I would describe my undergraduate career as 

He did, however, discover a strong liking for biolog\'. 
After graduating with a biology concentration. Miller 
went to St. Croix in the U.S. Virgin Islands to visit a 
friend. He intended to spend three weeks and stayed 
four years, captivated by the underwater world of the 
Caribbean. Supporting himself with work as a bartender 
and waiter. Miller began taking classes at the now- 
defunct West Indies Laboratory, which was run by Fair- 
leigh Dickinson University. When a job opened for a 
technician working with one of the world's leading 
coral-reef experts. Miller applied. One credential helped 
to distinguish him from the other applicants, he reports: 
"I have found that tlie undergraduate det^ree from 

46 • M AY/JUNF, 1 99 S 


South Florida's vegetable farms 
and sugar fields are on peat 
soil that was once part of the 
Everglades, which agricultural 
and urban development has cut 
in half. The ecological restoration 
underway there hopes to create 
an ecosystem that can live with 
its man-made surroundings. 





Brown has been helpful. It offers instant credibility." 

At Key Largo, Miller balances his time between con- 
ducting research and ministering to the needs of other 
scientists studying the reef. The centerpiece of the 
Florida Keys research program is Aquarius, the worlds 
only underwater laboratory. Originally based off St. 
Croix, Aquarius, an eighty-ton structure that houses 
bunk beds, laboratory work stations, and even hot show- 
ers, was moved to a spot on the Florida reet in 1993, 
shortly after the area became the Florida Keys National 
Marine Sanctuary. Scientists apply to the research pro- 
gram to spend ten days living in Aquarius conducting 
underwater studies. "It was stunning how little had been 
done here on this reef," Miller says. "Until Aquarius. 
coral-reef biologists were going to different parts of the 
world to conduct research." 

Despite the demands of the Aquarius program, which 
Miller administers, he has been able to make a few sci- 
entific observations that could help show how Hnked 
even this coral reef is to the peninsular south Florida 
ecosystem. In 1995, he led a multidisciplinary expedition 
of scientists that systematically gathered data from the 
entire reef, the first Keys-wide assessment of the Florida 
reet tract. "During this cruise," Miller says, "we saw evi- 
dence ot recent die-off of several species of brain corals 
in the middle Keys. That would be consistent with 
Florida Bay water making it out to the reef tract." 

Miller is not ready, however, to conclude that the 
reet is being damaged by man-made changes to the 
region's environment. "The corals that died," he 
explains, "died because they became covered with sedi- 
ments from Florida Bay." Those sediments were most 
likely freed from the bottom of the bay when it suffered 
its massive turde-grass die-off in the late 19S0S and early 

1990s. But what caused the turtle grass to die? Here is 
where Millers and Halley s work meet: It Halley s work 
can help show that the turtle-grass decline was probably 
a cyclical, natural phenomenon, then the coral die-off 
Miller observed is most likely a natural event. But if the 
turtle-grass die-otf is primarily due to the altered 
hydrology of south Florida, then we humans are not 
only killing otT the Everglades; we're working on the 
reef tract as well. 

Miller and Halley both emphasize that definitive 
answers are a long way off. Science, it seems, often 
moves according to geological time. Unfortunately, 
south Florida's natural world cannot wait aeons for 
restoration; its decline is happening far too quickly. 
Guided by scientists such as Halley, the replumbing of 
south Florida is proceeding cautiously, but proceed it 
must. Most researchers are convinced that enough is 
known to begin altering the way water moves down 
through the ecosystem so that the timing and spatial 
pattern of its flow replicate the presettlement condition 
as much as possible. The guiding principle is something 
called adaptive management, which specifies periodic 
monitoring to see whether a given restoration step is 
working. One thing is certain: no one knows what the 
south Florida of 2040 will look like, but almost everyone 
hopes it won't resemble the south Florida of 1990. 

"What arc our expectations about all this?" asks 
Steven Miller. "People want nature in south Florida and 
the Keys to be the way it used to be. But what does that 
mean? The way it used to he when? There are so many 
examples ot our going in to try to restore nature. There 
are so many examples when we've been burned." This 
time, both men are determined to do what they can to 
get It right, c^ 


The Year O! 


his past January I went on a book tour for the 
paperback version of my latest historical novel. 
The second-to-last stop, on a Friday night, was Prairie 
Lights Books in Iowa City, where my reading was 
broadcast live over the regional National Public Radio 
outlet. When I'd finished. I sat at a table at the back of 
the store, signing books and chatting with some local 
women who had just discussed the novel in their read- 
ing group. A man who looked to be about my age stood 
next to them, smiling, and I tried to draw him into the 
conversation. He hung back, but he didn't stop grinning 
- not until the scales fell from my eyes. 

"I had the radio on," he said. "I got m the car when I 
realized it was you." 

Sixteen years had passed since I'd seen Tom Lewis, 
now an associate professor of comparative literature at 
the University of Iowa. The two of us had completely 
lost track of each other. But we could both still tell you, 
exactly, the day we met: Sunday, September 7, 1969, 
when we arrived as freshmen at Brown. 



The author's freshman year was marked by dueling signage, 
such as the stril<e flag slung from dormitory windows (facing 
page) and a placard wielded by an outnumbered dissenter 
(left), as well as by shifting campus demographics. Above, 
student models wait their turn during a fashion show, part 
of the Black Arts Festival. 

Tom - like me, a literary-minded fmancial-aid stu- 
dent - had settled in two rooms down from mine on 
the second floor of Archibald House m the West (now 
Keeney) Quad, and that night we both sat in Arnold 
Lounge for an orientation meeting. Two upperclass 
proctors spoke. The first one I recall wearing madras 
bermuda shorts and dorky black-rimmed glasses 
(exacriy the kind 1 had on), and he proceeded earnestly 
to recite the University's restrictions concerning alco- 
hol, drugs, and girls in our rooms. The second proctor, 
an altogether more relaxed presence, followed up with 
some practical remarks about how we could comfort- 
ably accommodate alcohol, drugs, and girls in our 
rooms. I remember, during this latter presentation, 
watching proctor number one out of the corner ot my 
eye and feeling a sorry solidarity with him: another tish 
out of the Aquarian Age's water. In case you've forgot- 
ten how fast that water was churning, consider that the 
twelve weeks since we'd all graduated from high school 
had brought the first moon landing, Chappaquiddick, 





MICHAEL BoVEH '68 {2) 

Reading my letti 
^oa, how did n 

From exchanging pleasantries 
at a freshman-week picnic 
(top) to getting shorn in 
"People's Hall" (Sayles) for the 
greater good of the off-campus 
anti-war effort. Brown and 
Pembroke students rode a 
roller coaster of new, often 
discordant, experiences. 

the Manson murders, the Stonewall not, and Woodstock. 

It the scene in Arnold Lounge were the beginning 
of an historical novel set during my freshman year at 
Brown, chapter one would probably end later that first 
night with me lying awake in my dormitory room, too 
homesick to sleep, hearing this maddening little click 
about once every minute. I didn't realize until morning 
that it was my roommate's digital clock — the kind 
where the numbers flip like cards on a Rolodex, and the 
absolute dcnilcr cri in mechanical marvels. 

In some ways, I might be the ideal narrator of such a 
novel. I lived as a watchful nonparticipant in the tumult 
of that year, an even more straitjacketed Nick Carraway, 
if you moved him from West Egg to the West Quad. On 
the New Curriculum's maiden voyage, I was a sort of 
stowaway. The November 25, 1969, Brown Daily Herald 
reported that 3 . i percent of freshmen were choosing to 
take all their courses for grades, instead of the new 
S/NC option. I was among the 3.1 percent. And in the 
year's larger drama, the movement of Vietnam protest 
from the tail's moratoria to the spring's great strike, 
I felt similarly otTstage and embattled. On October 14, 
I argued to my roommate: weren't the professors who 
were canceling tomorrow's classes breaking a contrac- 

po^L- 3^^^--:^3--.^I^t.O.,^^^^ 

tual obligation, forcing me to cooperate in furthering a 
political position I didn't hold? (I thought Nixon's pol- 
icy of Vietnamization was the most realistic way for us 
to withdraw from the war.) He countered that I should 
make a sacrifice for peace by not going to class. "Well, 
let me tell you how he spent the day 'working for 
peace'," I later wrote to a high school friend. "He slept 
late — watched television - and then went to his eco- 
nomics class. 1 asked him what happened to his sacri- 
t"ice? Well, he just had to go to class, he said, because [his 
girlfriend] is coming up Friday for Homecoming and 
he has to skip class to pick her up and he can't atlord to 
miss it twice." 

My high school friend recently presented me with a 
whole batch of these letters, and my chief reaction to 
reading this one atter nearly thirty years was: God, how 
did my roommate stand me? Such a shrill little prig. 

C eld' °/t.e year. ^ 

without a hint of appreciation for the situation's 
comic aspect. Even now, I can't bear the sound ot 
that voice, let alone the goofy handwriting and 
bad punctuation. No, for any novel set in 1969-70, 
I'd have to find another point of view, and cer- 
tainly another hero. 

As I sit here, a few months before my twenty- 
fifth reunion, my desk covered with old letters 
and Xeroxes from the BDH, I do see a theme 
emerging for any novehst inclined to work this 
material, a theme that links to something a pro- 
fessor suggested in a poetry course my sopho- 
more year. She said the most forceful literature 
always arises from inner tension, be it that between the 
Transcendental and the Calvinist in Emily Dickinson, or 
the rakish and the spiritual in John Donne. In a whole 
community, not just one poet's head, it is the cultural 
contradictions that give a story hfe. College Hill was full 
of them that year. 

Everywhere on campus one found soldenngs of the 
aborning and the obsolete, like the modern glass doors 
stuck into the Romanesque arch of Wilson Hall. The 
class of '73 was Brown's first to have a racial demo- 
graphic remotely like the country's, and from week one 
we did a painfully good job of segregating ourselves 
("Blacks, Whites Separated for Talk of Black Experi- 
ence," announced the Herald). My intense yearlong 
course on seventeenth- and eighteenth-century French 
history could not have seemed more sealed off from the 
"real world, " but it ended with slender, severe Professor 
William Church addressing the question of whether 
conditions for revolution existed in the present-day 
United States to the e.xtent that they had m 1789. He 
thought not. 

Just as the moratorium and Homecoming weekend 
competed for my roommate's attention, new customs 
vied for supremacy with old folkways - with limited 
success. One didn't have to take any science or math or 
anything else one didn't want to, but most professors still 
called us "Mister" and "Miss." Dr. Roswell Johnson, the 
sexually-hip health-services director who became in- 
famous for dispensing the Pill to Pembrokers, was also 
the epitome of WASP tweediness. Which leads me to 
believe I would probably be better off with a heroine 
than a hero for this novel, because the last wave ot Pem- 
brokers touiid themselves suspended in an even wider 

Acting President and Professor of Economics Merton P. Stoltz 
conferred witli students during the early days of tlie May anti- 
war stril(e. 

array of transitions than their Brown brethren. The first 
coed dormitory had come into existence, but the BDH 
headline announcing it read, "Pink Curtains Flutter in 
Wriston Quad." University Hall might have been ringed 
with demonstrators from time to time, but parietals 
remained in effect until the end of the academic year. 


^H resent-day consciousness is generally fatal to 
^1 historical fiction. It would be tempting, in this 
novel set during 1969-70, to take a mention of the just- 
graduated and already legendary Ira Magaziner '69, co- 
architect of the New Curriculum, and nudge it forward 
into his later, gray-haired authorship of the failed Clin- 
ton health plan. Or to conjure up the glamorous future 
of fin-de-siecle Brown - the high-gloss, coveted campus 
one now sees in Vanity Fair - during a scene reflecting 
Its more humble times. ("Who rejected you?" a class- 
mate once asked, striking up a laundry-room conversa- 
tion. "Harvard or Yale?") But one has to let the era-to- 
era correspondences, and contrasts, come naturally to 
the reader's mind. 

On my most recent visit to Providence, I walked 
past the window of my old room in Archibald House 
and saw the lit square of a computer screen. I wondered 
if the student sitting m ti-ont of it, not far from where 


Scenes on the Green: a rally (top) 
and a pastry sale for peace. 

my mechanical typewriter used to rest, was e-mailing a 
friend across campus. (Surely no one lines up at the 
handful ot pay phones with which we used to make do.) 
I found myself remembering the night I playeci an early 
computer game with a couple of friends in one of the 
science labs. This pre-Space Invaders competition in- 
volved flipping toggle switches on and ofl as fast as one 
could; with all the moving parts, it was a lot closer to our 
fathers' pinball machines than anything that came after. 

My first year at Brown is exactly as far from 1997-9S 
as It was from the Pearl Harbor year of 1941-42. in cer- 
tain respects, both psychic and technological, 1969-70 
may have been closer to that earlier era. The campus I 
remember walking around at nighttime, three decades 
ago, was dark to the point ot spookmess, or at least 
romance. It didn't take much imagination to slip back 
into the Providence ot H.P Lovecraft when you made 
your way down Benefit Street or even past the Van 
Wickle Gates. Today the University is altogether 
brighter with ornamental and security lights, and it's 
hard, when you're there, to lose yourself. 

If its sense and meaning remain elusive, the te.xture 
of my freshman year - the details through which any 
book succeeds or fails in re-creating a period - can be 
summoned in an instant, so much of it having been 
printeci on mv still-adolescent tahida nisiv. the orange 
"bug juice" we drank in the Ratty; the music and cloth- 
ing shops on a still-untranchised Thayer Street; the 
greasy food from the trucks at the corner of Brown and 
George ("Papa, give me a hamburger grinder, and hold 
the dirt" - the voice of my friend jay, I'm sure); the 
scratchy sound of the timer lights in the B-level stacks of 

•+V. ToTTips Taylor, whose sweet 
spring «-^-/;^ -,\^ tTt Jnta^les, would .e the 
Tayfl IZ\TZI\'L. the convulsion. 

the Rock, where I fell in love with Keats and worked far 
harder than was good for me. 

A few of the Big Scenes are obvious. The draft lot- 
tery, in which most freshman males had a stake, was 
broadcast over WBRU, provoking shouts of ecstasy and 
despair throughout the West Quad as the numbers were 
drawn. We generally igtiored the lunar landings, but the 
95 percent solar eclipse on March 7, greeted from the 
courtyard with loud music and more awe than we were 
willmg to admit, is available for the novelists symbolic 
manipulation. Spring Weekend, with James Taylor, whose 
sweet songs were never off the turntables, would be the 
interlude, the idyll, t\vo weeks before the convulsion. 


^H he student strike, the obvious climax for this 

^1 novel, caused me a kind of double anguish. I 
still remember the moment and place I heard about the 
shootings at Kent State. I was walking with my friend 
John Maguire. We'd just finished dinner, and it was still 
light out. A security guard. Lieutenant Walsh, told us the 
news when we crossed Benevolent Street. That night 
the College bell summoned students to the Green for a 
vote on whether to suspend academic activities for the 
rest of the year. When we got there, candles were shin- 
ing in each of University Hall's windows — a tribute to 
the four students who'd been killed, we freshmen 
thought, until we learned that the candles were there, as 
they are every spring, to commemorate George Wash- 
ington's visit to the University. 

Once again, as the vote was taken, 1 was in a minor- 
ity, if not so spectacularly as with the grading option. A 
total of 1,895 students voted to strike; 884 (more than 
memory would have guessed) voted not to. The real 
source of my misery lay in the fact that I no longer 
believed in the government's policy either, certainly not 
in its "incursion" into Cambodia. 1 felt estranged from 
every side. On the morning of May sth, awakening to 
the sound of a bullhorn on the street - "BROWN 
UNIVERSITY ON STRIKE!" - I pulled the pillow 
over my head. I think this would be the week I hung up 
on my gentle but still pro-Nixon father from one of 
those pay phones in the West Quad. 

I stayed in my room or at the library, writing a long 
paper on Romantic poetry that I didn't really need to 
turn in. Everywhere else, at least tor a while, the war 

protests thrived. A schedule of "Strike Activities" for 
Thursday, May 7, 1970, listed twenty-six separate events, 
four of them at 9:30 a.m. 

■ Providence leafletting - need cars and drivers 
— room 200, Sayles 

■ Canvassing begins — Sayles 

■ Guerrilla Theatre Meeting - Sayles - participants 
wiU go out into communiry at 10:00 am 

" Big Mother [coft'ee house| - meeting for home 
town activities directed toward liberal uncommit- 
ted businessmen. 

As the last item shows, "bringing the war home," a 
familiar phrase from the era, would soon have to mean, 
at least for a while, one's actual home. Summer put an 
end to this academic year as to any other, the dispersal ot 
everyone, as always, so sudden and strange — very much, 
in fact, like shutting a book. 

A character in one of my novels, an old man named 
Horace Sinclair, divides the world into two kinds of peo- 
ple: those who, "when they pass a house, wonder who 
lives there, and those who, when they pass it, wonder who 
used to live there." The historical novehst will, in part, 
choose distant subjects as a rehef from his own life, but 
of course he's always present somewhere in the book, 
and I recognize this passage as coming not from Colonel 
Sinclair, but from myself For whatever reasons, I get on 
with the present much better once it's become the past. 

A few months ago, when I went back to the John 
Hay Library, the University archivist brought me that 
strike schedule, along with hundreds of other stencils 
run off by the "People's Print Shop" in Sayles Hall. 
They're now preserved in two brown portfolios tied up 
with laces -just like the oldest books I'd revered in the 
B-level stacks of the Rock. When I untied them, my 
feelings toward those papers, as dead and not-dead as my 
eighteen-year-old self, were more tender than anything 
else. I remember the year that produced them as painful, 
but as the one that set me on my way, however cir- 
cuitously, to what I wanted to be doing. The manu- 
scripts of my own novels are now also in the Hay, a sort 
of advance final resting place, a peaceful eventuahty I 
never considered when I walked the brick sidewalks ot 
Prospect Street that year - lonely, afraid, and constantly 
excited. O^ 

Thciuiis Million 's most nrciil hooks arc Henry and Clara 
and Dewey Defeats Truman, lu March, he iron the ^^allonal 
Boob Critics Circle Award tor excellence in ret'icwini;. 


Mij Motfier, Mtj Loss 

When a mother dies, young people are often scarred by 
a grief they don't understand. Sociologist Lynn Davidman 
may be helping a new generation chart a healthier path. 

oris had just hung up the 
phone when she heard 
her father's cry. It was a 
Saturday morning in Feb- 
ruary 1958, and the Rock- 
ville Centre, New York, teen had been 
making plans with a friend to catch a 
movie that afternoon. But her father's 
stricken voice wrenched her from care- 
tree adolescence into a darker realm. 
Doris ran to her parents' bedroom and 
saw her inother lying on the bed, dead. 

The fifteen-year-old was Doris 
Kearns Goodwin, now an eminent his- 
torian who recounted the lite-changing 
moment in her 1997 memoir. Wait Till 
Next Year. "My tather was sitting on the 
edge of my mother's bed, sobbing into 
his hands," Goodwin wrote. "Perhaps my 
mother's long illness . . . should have pre- 
pared me tor the prospect of her death. 
Yet ... I recoiled in shock at the sight of 
her body." 

Losing one's mother is shocking at 
any age; losing a mother during adoles- 
cence IS particularly shattering, says Lynn 
Davidman, associate protessor ot sociol- 
ogy, Judaic studies, and women's studies. 
Davidman should know. Not only is she 
completing three years of research on 
the topic and writing a book, Growing Up 
Mollierless, due out ne.xt year, but as a 
young teenager she herself lost her 
mother to cancer. It was an experience 
Da\-idman has never entirely recovered 
from — a point that became clear after 
her tather died in 1993 and Davidman fell 
to pieces at her parents' grave sue m 

In the aftermath of that unexpected 
emotion. il meltdown, Davidman went on 
to locate ,uid interview thirtv men and 
thirty women whose mothers hail died 

54 ♦ MAY /J L ■. 1; 1998 


when the interviewees were between the 
ages ot ten and tifteen. It's an age range, 
Davidman explains, when the effects ot 
what she has dubbed "motherloss" are 
especially acute. The children are old 
enough to retain vivid memories ot lite 
betbre and after their mother's death, 
but they are not yet mature enough to be 
selt-sutticient; they still require nurturing. 

What Davidman tbuiid is heartbreak- 
mgly poignant: most ot the interviewees 
had never talked about their mothers' 
deaths until she sat down with them 
one-on-one. Otten both she and the 
respondents cried during their two-to- 
three-hour meetings. The loss of care 
experienced by every one ot the subjects 
— and by Davidman herselt - had an 
enormous etTect on their adult lives, lead- 
ing many to seek out gentle, nurturing 
mates or to go into caregiving careers 
such as nursing. 

Indeed, motherloss seemed to color 
everything in a person's life, from the pro- 
saic, such as decisions not to return to 
work after childbirth, to the archetypal. 
Over the years most of the interviewees 
had constructed culturally stereot\'ped, 
idealized views of their mothers. They 
described doting moms who baked deli- 
cious cookies and sewed elaborate Hal- 
loween costumes. "Daily life with my 
mother was so unbelievably good," one 
middle-aged male professor told David- 
man, "you might think i made it up. " A 
woman who had been severely beaten by 
her inother as a young child astounded 
D.ividman h\ insistin>i the same 

woman, it she had lived, would now be 
"my best friend." The deceased mothers 
became powerful, madonna-like icons - 
a tact not lost on Davidman, much of 
whose scholarship has examined the 
intersection ot sociology and religion. 

hat unhinged the normally 
composed Davidman on 
a chill November day in 
Israel m 1993 had little to 
do with her father's death 
and everything to do with issues she 
assumed she had buried along with her 
mother's body twenty'-one years earlier. 
After all. tather anci daughter had barely 
spoken during that time, since a rift arose 
over Lynn's rejection of his Orthodox 
Judaism. No, what pierced her composure 
was seeing, for the first time, the grave in 
Jerusalem next to her dad's into which her 
mother's remains had been transferred trom 
a Long Island cemetery tour years earlier. 
Standing over the graves, Davidman 
began crying hysterically. "I was trans- 
formed into the thirteen-year-old girl who 
had lost her mother." she says. "I repeat- 
edly sobbed, 'I want niv mom.' I cried out 
111 mourning tor my lost opportunir\' to 
have known my mother over the course 
ot her lite and to have her know me as a 
woman. And I wimdered about the many 
ways m which my life would have been 
easier it my mother had not died when 
m\ brothers and I were voung." 

Such a deeply felt reaction might h.i\-e 
sent other social scientists running from a 
research project as close to home as the 


one on motherless Davidman was con- 
templating. When her father died, David- 
man was on sabbatical from Brown, 
working on a book proposal. Having 
arrived at a point in her lite when she 
could appreciate the depth of her young 
loss, she wanted to attempt the book tor 
both personal and professional reasons. "It 
was something I really needed to get in- 
to," Davidman says. "And there was almost 
nothing else written on the topic." So, 
when she regained her composure after 
her graveside catharsis, instead ot aban- 
doning the project, Davidman plunged 
back in with renewed commitment. 

Davidman had waited to do the book 
proposal until she telt sure her Brown 
tenure review would go well, because, she 
points out, "it's a daring project" tor an 
academic. The trank twining ot personal 
experience and scientific method would, 
she knew, dismay more traditional social 
scientists who bow at the altar ot ob- 
jectivity. Davidman has chosen to work 
within a newer social-science model, 
"grounded theory," which often relies on 
highly personalized interactions between 
interviewer and subject to tease out pri- 
mary research themes. 

Davidman was no stranger to selt- 
referential research. "Throughout my aca- 
demic lite." she says, "beginning as an 
undergraduate, 1 have pursued intellectual 
work partly as a way to better understand 
my own life." Early in her career, she 
majored in psycholog\' and religion at 
Barnard and went on for a master's from 
the University of Chicago Divinity 
School. She switched to sociology for her 
Ph.D. at Brandeis after concluding that 
the field "places individual experience 
within larger contexts." Her first book, 
Tradilioii ill ii Rootless World: Ilium'/; Turn 
to (JrtliOilox liidiusm (1991), investigated the 
personal factors that cause Jewish women 
to be attracted to a fundamentalist form 
of their faith. Both that work and her 
current book. Davidman notes, "focus on 
how people make sense of and rebuild 
their lives after experiencing a major, un- 
expected disruption." 

The good news about inotherloss, 
Davidman has concluded, is that people 
do rebuild their lives. Ot tiie sixty sub- 
jects she interviewed, titty-eight have 
constructed successful adult lives. While 
nearly every interviewee agreed with tiie 

forty-something woman who called her 
mother's death "the defining event of my 
lite," most are survivors. "In one way or 
another," Davidman notes, "we have 
founci ways to make our lives work tor us. 
It is a testament to the human ability to 
experience adversity and transcend it." 

But the path to that transcendence, 
Davidman believes, was made unnecessar- 
ily difficult by squeamish social conven- 
tions. One of her hopes is that the book 
will help families experiencing mother- 
loss to avoid the pall of silence and shame 
that deny an adolescent's searing loss and 
the ditTiculties that follow. 

he day after her mother 
died. Dons Kearns Good- 
win arose early and put- 
tered aimlessly in the 
kitchen. "I wanted my 
father," she writes in her memoir, "yet tor 
the first time in my life I was afraid to dis- 
turb him. 1 wanted to call my friends, but 
did not want to be pitied." Back in high 
school after the funeral, she plunged into 
her studies ancH after-school activities. "At 
home, however," she recalls, "I entered 
into a private realm ot sadness. The old 
rituals ot family were gone, dissolved by 
death and my father's continuing grief." 

Goodwin's story is a familiar one to 
Lynn Davidman, who suffered 111 silence 
after her own mother's death and now 
knows she was far from the only teen 
to do so. Until recently, Davidman notes, 
death has been a subject eschewed in 
polite society. For many families, it was 
the conversational elephant in the living 
room: hugely disruptive, impossible to 
Ignore, yet verboten to mention. The rea- 
sons for this were several, Davidman sug- 
gests. For one, the surviving fathers got 
caught up in their own loss and in the 
shock ot suddenlv assuming the day-to- 
day care of their children; typically, they 
didn't encourage conversation about the 
bereavement, in addition, the death of a 
mother resulted, sociologically speaking, 
in an abnormal family structure. "In the 
fifties and sixties, any major trauma that 
shattered the nuclear-tamily pattern. " notes 
Davidman, "such as parent loss, homo- 
sexuality, even divorce - all were silenced. 
"We learned, early on," she continues, 
"that the subject was taboo, and thus we 
rarelv discussed our mothers \\ ith anvone. 

from the onset of their illnesses and after- 
ward, throughout our lives." When her 
mother became ill, no one used the word 
cancer, and Davidman was shushed when 
she brought it up. Family and friends told 
her simply that her mother was sick, 
adding reassuringly, "Don't worry, she'll 
be tine" So Davidman stifled her worries. 
After her mother's death, tearing she 
would further upset her remote father, 
she stifled her grief, too. "I couldn't cry," 
Davidman says. "If you can't cry, you 
can't grieve. You kill something in vou. In 
high school I was so unhappy, but I would 
say to my friends, 'I'm not unh.ippy. I'm 
just not happy.' " 

For chiklren who lost their mothers, 
such cultural strictures typicallv led to "a 
lifelong habit of silence," one that exacer- 
bated the sense of disruption orphaned 
children were already feeling. In addition 
to their repressed grief, the children also 
experienced an abrupt discontinuation ot 
the specific caretaking provided by their 
mothers. Not surprisingly, given the roles 
women played within families, such depri- 
vation often centered around food — the 
literal and symbolic epitome ot mother 

Shortly after Davidman embarked on 
her research, she began to have a trou- 
bling dream. In it, she was living in her 
childhood home with her two brothers, 
her father, and her mother, who had 
somehow returned to the family after her 
death. Even though she appeared to be 
present, in one crucial way 15avidman's 
mother was not there tor her children. 

"She's not feeding us," Davidman s,iys, 
summarizing the dream's story line. "My 
brothers and I are concerned about plan- 
ning meals, buying or scrounging food, 
putting food on the table. My mother is 
just not doing her job, and I'm not happy 
about It." 

The disruption in normal mealtimes 
that happens when a mother dies, lOavid- 
inan savs, is a major part of inotherloss. 
"What people lose is mothers' caring in 
its manifold variations," she says. "The 
loss of regular meals is a loss both of 
something you physically need and of 
luirturance. " One brother-sister pair she 
interviewed brought up a common theme 
- the sting\-, unloving stepmother. "The\' 
talked about this stepmother who didn't 
feed them," Davidman s.ivs. "She'd t^u'e 

56 ♦ MAY/JUNE 1998 


Deatfi in the Famifij 


YNN DAViDMAN emphasizes that she is an academic sociologist, not a thera- 
pist. But as one who experienced the death of her mother when she was thirteen, 
and as a veteran listener to the stories of others, she has some advice for guiding 
children through the pain of motherloss. 

■ First, communicate. "Talk with the kids in depth and in detail about what's 
going on when a mother has a fatal condition," Davidman says. "Prepare them for 
what's going to happen." 

■ Second, arrange for the children to be physically cared for. "If the 
father doesn't know how to cook, figure out a way to ensure that the kids will get reg- 
ular, balanced meals," she says. "Bring someone in to do household cleaning so the 
kids don't have to start managing this at a young age." If a family lacks financial 
resources to hire help, Davidman says, they can mobilize networks of friends, reli- 
gious organizations, or others in the community. 

■ Third, listen. Children with dying or dead mothers should be encouraged to 
express their feelings and emotions, says Davidman. "They should not be told to be 
strong and move on." Acknowledge their grief by saying, "Yes, this is a major loss. Yes, 
this hurts, and this is going to hurt for a while. We will need to work together to alle- 
viate some pain" It's okay, Davidman reminds us, to feel sad. 

■ Fourth, allow for farewells. "I would encourage children to spend time 
with their mother while she's dying and to figure out a way to say good-bye," David- 
man says. "If the mother is well enough, perhaps she could make tapes for the chil- 
dren. One of my interviewees said her mother had done that, and it helped her a 
great deal." -AD. 

them one can ot Chef Boyardee to share." 
Ill etlect, these children felt both emo- 
tionally and physically starved by their 
father's remarriage. 

Contrary to Davidnian's expectation, 
tew of her interviewees seemed to have 
been conitbrted bv institutionalized reli- 
gion. Instead, they "kept their mothers 
symbolically present" via c^uasi-religious 
practices. One woman placed her 
mother's photo in her own wedding-day 
bout]uet; later, she put it in her son's 
pocket tor his bar mitzvah. Similarly, a 
man sewed his mom's picture inside the 
yarmulke he wore when he married. 
Another woman "talked" to her mother 
\\ hen she jogged, seeking guidance from 
the dead woman as if from a god or saint. 

Even Davidman. who smilingly de- 
scribes herself, like Ma.x Weber, as "reli- 
giously unmusical," created sacred spaces 
tor her mother's artifacts. After her fiance 

moved in recently, Davidman began jeal- 
ously guarding a framed photograph ot 
her mother she'd placed on a living-room 
desk. When her fiance added photos of 
his daughters to the desk, Davidman 
quickly moved them across the room. He 
moved them back. She moved them 
again. "After the third day of this, I said, 
'Hey, Arthur, what's with the pictures? 
You keep putting them over here on my 
desk.' He said. 'And you keep moving 
them.' I said, 'Well, that's. . .' and I groped 
for the right word. 'That's . . . my shriiic' " 

t times, interviewing her 
subjects was so painful 
that Davidman nearly 
abandoned the project. 
Because she explicitly set 
out to incorporate her experiences into 
the research, she struggled to overcome 
decades cjt repressed emotion and to face 

her pain. "Every few weeks I would 
think, 'I have to drop this,' " Davidman 
relates. "About two years ago I wasn't sure 
I could go on. I was so depressed; I'd come 
home after an interview feeling like a rag 
doll." Several friends urged her to leave 
the project and the pain behind. "But one 
really good friend said, 'You want to do 
this, and you're not going to rest until you 
do. Stick with it.' And she was right." 

In the end, Davidman has been left 
not only with a heretofore-nonexistent 
body of knowledge about the effects of 
motherloss in adolescence, but with an 
afTirmation of her conviction that most 
people manage to make sense of their 
lives, no matter what they've experienced. 
So, even though she winced tor Princes 
William and Harry when their mother. 
Princess Diana, died in a car crash last 
summer, Davidman is confident that the 
surprisingly "un-English" public mourn- 
ing will help the two boys adjust; "they 
won't be isolated by shame and silence." 

Further, she has seen among some of 
her younger research subjects a small, but 
encouraging, shift toward openness in the 
way families deal with impending mother- 
loss. This trend is particularly noticeable 
111 urban communities and among the 
well-educated. Davidman would love to 
see her book make healthier conventions 
more widespread. 

In the meantime, Davidman has 
achieved a measure of equilibrium in her 
personal life at the same time she is wrap- 
ping up her motherloss project. That she 
persevered with the research is due, she 
believes, to her ability to confront, at long 
last, the pam of her mother's death - and 
to at least one person who supplied 
Davidman, decades later, with the support 
and love her mother might have given 
her, had she lived. 

"About the same time I was question- 
ing whether to proceed with the re- 
search," Davidman notes, "I was getting 
involved with my fiance. He's a very nur- 
turing man. He cooks dinner for me 
every night. 

"Having that kind of unconditional 
love and support in my life freed me to 
do my work. Within a couple of months 
of making the decision to continue, my 
mother began coming into my dreams. I 
felt 1 could go on. She had come to help 
guide me." O^^ 

li R () W N A I. U M N I M A G .'\ Z I N E ♦ 5 7 





Nobody's Fool 

ally fifty years ago, Alice Hoit' a 'llicc girl frOHl PciWtUcket' 
^runiniond arrived m New 

went to Ncii'\'oi'k and ended 

York City fresh out of Pembroke College, 
eager to hurst on the theater scene atter a 
string of acting successes with Brown's 
Sock and Buskin drama society. Today 
Drummond, at seventy, has made good on 
her dream; her resume lists more than 200 
roles m t"ilm, theater, and television, as 
well as a 1970 Tony nomination for her 
role in the Broadway play Tlic Chinese and 
Dr. Fish. 

The early trajectory of Drummond's 
career looked more like a slow burn than 
a fiery burst. A young woman seeking 
leading stage roles in the early fifties "had 
to be overwhelmingly pretty," she says. 
"Nowadays, you can be sort ot kooky or 
strange or otf, but I wasn't even that. I was 
just a nice girl from Pawtucket." 

During her first ten years in Manhat- 
tan, Drummond took clerical jobs while 
pertbrming in summer stock in the Mid- 
west and on Nantucket. She wasn't 
invited to audition for an otf-Broadway 
play until she was almost thirty, but when 
she finally made it to a tryout, Drum- 
mond not only got the part - Anne of 
Cleves in Herman Gressieker's Roynl 
Gainbil - she also won glowing reviews 
from Walter Kerr in the New York Heraht- 
Tribitue and Brooks Atkinson in the New 
York Times. Despite this success, as a young 
actress Drummond felt pigeonholed 
when she won nothing but offbeat roles. 
"I wanted to play a lead, and nobody 
would let me, " she remembers. One sum- 
mer she finally landed a leading role - 
only to find the experience disappoint- 
ing. "I thought I would go mad," she says, 
"because ingenue parts could be very, 
very boring, at least in those days." 

After that, Drummond stuck to the 
quirky characters that have defined her 
career. Performing alongside such stars as 
Jason Robards, Jim Carrey, Colleen 
Dewhurst, and Paul Newman, she has 

;(/) acting beside Panl Newman 

and Sarah Jessica Parker 


By Lisa W. Foderaro '85 
Photograph by John Foraste 

played everything from a ten-year-old girl 
to a Cuban grandmother to a psychiatric 
patient. Her biggest film role to date was 
in last year's Til There Uhs You. a romantic 
comedy starring Sarah Jessica Parker and 
Dylan McDermott. The director, Scott 
Winant, had seen Drummond in the 
acclaimed off-Broadway play Mitri'lii's 
Room several years earlier ancH hadn't for- 
gotten her. "Alice is such a versatile 
actress," says Winant, who made his name 
as the director and producer of the hit 
television series ihirtysomethin};. "She's 
extremely sharp anci flexible." 

As time has turned her fine hair silver 
and rheumatoid arthritis has slowecl her 
walk and curled her hands, Drummond 
has begun to specialize in portraying 
elderly women. In Til There IVas You, she 
played a fragile, dreamy tenant facing 
eviction. In the 1990 film about brain- 
damaged patients, .■iu'dheiiinp. costarring 
Robin Williams and Robert De Niro, 
Drummond was a mute, gnarled woman 
who came briefly to life atter receiving an 
experimental drug, hi Nobody's Fool 
(1994), starring Paul Newman, she played 
a small-town resident suffbring from 
Alzheimer's disease who wanders out into 
the snow. "Even when I was at Brown, 1 
was playing little old ladies," she says 
wryly. "But back then, I didn't do it well. 
I've grown into it." 

When Drummond was a i^irl in P.iw- 

tucket, Rhode Island, her mother occa- 
sionally kept her out of school to take her 
to plays in Boston. In high school, Drum- 
mond continued her love affair with the 
theater, winning the female lead in every 
school production. At Pembroke, where 
she made Phi Beta Kappa her junior year, 
she starred regularly for Sock and Buskin 
in what she now terms "obscure, dreary" 
plays. "You'd reaci them and wouldn't 
know what they meant," she recalls. 

Five decades of steady work as an 
actress have not yet added up to tame tor 
Drummond. Yes, people occasionally rec- 
ognize her on the street. A few years ago, 
a young girl sidled up to Drummond on a 
downtown Manhattan bus to ask if she 
was the actress who danced with Wesley 
Snipes in the movie Ti' Wong Foo, Tlnniks 
tor Ei'eryrhhii;, Julie Newuhw. She was. 

But as Drummond puts it: "Nobocly, 
nobody knows my name, except tor other 
actors." Sitting in the attractive, simple, 
two-bedroom apartment she shares with a 
retired teacher on the East Side ot Man- 
hattan, Drummond says she doesn't regret 
that stardom has eluded her. "What would 
appeal to me," she says, "is to be able to 
play any part I wanted. I want the job." 

One job she especially wanted and did 
not get, Drummonci says, was the role of 
the aunt in the movie version ot .Morviii's 
Room, starring Meryl Streep and Diane 
Keaton. But as she talked about her lite 
and work late into a Friday evening this 
spring, by turns passionate and selt-mock- 
ing, Drummond brightened: the phone 
was ringing. "Maybe that's my agent," she 
said, half-joking. It was. Drummond had 
gone to six auditions that week, and her 
agent was calling to say she'd gotten two 
of the parts, both for television pilots. 
"That's not bad," she said, sounding a licrie 
surprised. Not at all. O^ 

Lisii Fodeniro is a reporter for the New York 


The Classes 



May 1998 will mark seventy-five years since 
our graduation from Pembroke. A reunion 
is not feasible, as there are only seven living 
members of our class, most of whom are 
unable to travel. We are sorry to report the 
death of Alice Desmond Schmieder on 
Jan. 4. She had been a loyal class president, 
treasurer, and agent smce our graduation. It 
was Alice who always kept us informed about 
each other over the past seventy-five years. 
Dorothy Hotchkiss Jenckes is living at the 
Tremont Health Care Center in Houston. 
Her grandson Jay Jenckes is applying to enter 
Dartmouth in September. Ruth Bugbee 
Lubrano assisted Alice Schmieder with class 
news tor the past si.x years. Classmates may 
contact Ruth at 229 Medway St., #207, Prov- 
idence R.I. 02906. Keep in mind the 1923 
Pembroke Scholarship Fund, which gives 
assistance to future Brown scholars. - Ruth 
Bugbee Lubrano, president 

Chet Worthington, longtime BAM 
editor, celebrated his 95th birthday in Febru- 
ary with friends and family. 


Horace S. Mazet retired after thirty-six 
years with the U.S. Marine Corps and, subse- 
quently, in the real estate business in Califor- 
nia. In retirement he has found writing to be 
pleasant and profitable and has authored five 
books and innumerable articles in which he 
expresses his feelings on contemporary life. 
Two of his latest articles appeared in the Mon- 
terey Herald before Christmas, and the most 
recent will appear in the Monterey County Post. 
His expose on the 1777 raid on Sag Harbor, 
Long Island, by patriotic troops appeared in 
the March issue of Military History. "The raid 
has been called the turning point of 
the Revolution," Horace writes. He can be 
reached at 26760 Paseo Robles, Carmel, 
Cahf 93923. 

Dave Ebbitt '41 of Newport, Rhode Island, shared this photograph of a 
stellar faculty lineup in the 1941 Commencement procession. From 
left to right are George W. Kidder (biology), Robert W. "Pat" Kenney 
(English; "note cigarette!" says Ebbitt), an unidentified colleague, Israel 
J. Kapstein (English), William Dineen (music), and Arthur L. Washburn, 
resident counselor. The photographer, Peter Petropoulos '40, was 
Ebbitt's former roommate. "His father had a photography business in 
Newport," Ebbitt writes, "and Pete's camera shop closed its doors only 
last year." 


Please send the latest about your job, family, 
travels, or other ncu's to The Classes, Brown 
Alumni Magazine, Box lA'.s^, Providence, 
R.I. 02gi2;fax (401) S6^-g^gg; c-niai! 
BAMioibrowninn .brown .edu . Deadhne for 
September/October classnoles.June 15. 


Mildred Pansey Freiberg (see Sarah 
Freiberg Ellison So). 

Katherine Crawford Millspaugh trav- 
eled to San Francisco in October to visit her 
daughter, Linda Taylor, and Linda's family. 
"We had a wonderful drive up the coast to 
Napa," Katherine writes. Her granddaughter 
Rebecca has started Freestyle, a computer 
company in San Francisco, with two friends. 
Katherine spent Thanksgiving in the Florida 
Keys with her son Ted and his family. She 
still enjoys the golf courses and beach in 
North Myrde Beach, S.C., where she lives. 

Miles Sydney submitted this account 
of a memorable moment during the 65th 
reunion: "My classmates and I had passed 
through theVanWickle Gates and were stand- 
ing on either side of the street halfway down 
the hill. There were just a couple of older 
classes ahead of us as we waited for the faculty 
and graduating class to come through. Com- 
ing down the middle of the street, a young 
lady was intently looking from side to side, 
and then she found us - the guys wearing the 
'32 logo on their caps. She was either a stu- 
dent or an alumna desiring to find the class 
whose scholarship fund made her college 
career possible and to thank its representatives 
personally. In the brief moments we had to 
accept her heartfelt gratitude, we learned of 
her very satisfying career at Brown and her 
many accomphshments.The band came into 
sight and sound, followed by the faculty and 
graduating class, and the personable young 
lady had to clear out. We hastily squeezed 
hands in a fond farewell, and I said, 'Thank 
you for looking us up. You made my day' 
She took a couple of steps up the hill, turned 
back, and said, 'You fellows made my Ufe.' " 


The annual mini-reunion luncheon wiU be 
held Friday, May 22, at the Metacomet Coun- 
try Club in East Providence, R.I. For more 
information, call Raymond Chace at (401) 
437-1387 or Lillian Salmin Janas at (401) 


Beatrice Wattman Miller has a new grand- 
daughter, Emily Mae. born Feb. 24 to Bea's 
son I^onald and his wife, Debbie, of Potomac, 
Md. Bea also has two great-grandchildren, 
Lindsey, 10, and Matthew. 8. They are the 
grandchildren of Caryl-Ann Miller '59. 


Ed Rich '38 sent in an article from the New 
London Day that details the accomplishments 
of his late friend Steve Armstrong. Accord- 
ing to the article. Steve "persuaded the pow- 

ers that be in Norwich (Conn.) to build clay 
tennis courts and then spent many years as a 
one-man maintenance crew to make sure the 
city kept up the kind of courts that would 
be the envy of any private club." The courts 
were named in Steve's honor. 

Isaac H.Whyte Jr. and his wife, Jean, 
have moved from Wilmington, Del., to 
Oxford, Pa. They invite triends to visit them 
at Ware Presbyterian Village, 35 Cheshire 
Ct., Oxford 19363; (610) 99S-2409. 


Walter L. Creese, North Andover, Mass., 
received an honorary doctorate from the Uni- 
versity of Louisville in October. The citation 
read, in part, "To the degree that Louisville's 
architectural heritage has been preserved, 
much is owed to you." Walter is chairman 
emeritus of the division of architectural his- 
tory and preservation at the University of 

John J. Cooney Jr., Nashville,Tenn., 
spent the Christmas holidays with his daugh- 
ter, Deborah '67, and his son, John F. '70, 
both of whom live in the Washington, D.C., 
area with their families. The elder John is the 
former director of the Hermitage, Andrew 
Jackson's estate near Nashville. Deborah is 
editor o{ Public Policy Research and works in 
the government archives and the Library of 
Congress. John F, formerly with the Solicitor 
General's office, is a partner in a Washington, 
D.C., law firm. John J. writes that his children 
are "members of the third generation of 
Brown Cooneys who have spent a major 
part of their careers in public service." John 
J. Cooney '08 was Rhode Island's attorney 

Aurea Cancel Schoonmaker's husband, 
Edgar, passed away in December. Edgar was 
a meteorologist with the U.S. Weather Service 
and the manager of the Tweed-New Haven 
(Conn.) Airport. Aurea can be reached at 81 
Charlton Hill Rd., Hamden. Conn. 06516. 


Edmund F.Armstrong, Warwick, R.I., 
writes: "Frances and I toured northern Italy 
m September and October. Three weeks 
without a day of rain. We had stops in Rome, 
Florence, Siena. San Renio. and Venice. Great 
food, great wine, and great scenery, especially 
the Dolomites." 


Lois Dwight McDaniel and her husband. 
Bill, celebrated their soth wedding anniver- 
sary on Jan. 3 at a party given by their chil- 
dren in Williamsburg, Va. A bakery used a 
photograph to reconstruct their wedding cake 
and placed the original figurines on top. The 
Bible Lois carried in the wedding was also 

A Message from the 
Alumni Relations Office 

Thanks to those who responded to the 
fall reunion mailing asking for your 
intention to return to campus and any 
recent class news. The responses were 
many and we are working together 
with the magazine staff to process the 
class news. Look for your news in the 
next issue. 

on display, and the couple drank a toast from 
the same silver goblets they used for their 25th 
anniversary. Lois writes that they feel "most 
fortunate to be able to celebrate this occasion 
with those who mean the most to us - our 
children and their spouses" and that they have 
their sights on their 60th anniversary. Lois and 
Bill live in Richmond, Va., where Lois volun- 
teers at a local hospital, BiU holds down the 
craft desk at home, and both continue to 
work on the yard, seeding, fencing, and plant- 
ing. They can be reached at 730 N. Pinetta 
Dr., Richmond 23235. 

Betty Clay Mein is participating in the 
Women's Health Initiative, one of the largest 
studies ever conducted on women's health. 
She writes: "This study will give answers 
about how hormones and diet affect women's 
risk of heart disease, cancer, and osteoporosis, 
thus giving women the information needed 
to make better decisions about their health. 
If you are between the ages of 60 and 79. 
please call 1-800-54- WOMEN to find out 
more about joining this study, sponsored 
by the National Institutes of Health." Betty 
can be reached at 5600 Wisconsin Ave., #701 , 
Chevy Chase, Md. 20815; (301) 951-3311. 


Vernon R. Alden has published a memoir. 
Speaking for Myself {Oh\o University Libraries 
Press). Vernon, a former president of Ohio 
Universiry, is president of the Japan Society 
of Boston. 

Stanley L. Ehrlich's wife of forty-eight 
years. Louise, passed away in December. 
Louise was an artist, teacher, and the mother 
of Barbara '74, Stephen '77, and Michael. 
Donations in her memory can be made to 
the Stanley L. and Louise W Ehrlich Library 
Fund, Brown University, Box A, Providence 
02912. Stanley can be reached at i Acacia 
Dr., Middletown, R.I. 02842. 

Jeannie C. Stewart's first children's 
book. Tlirce Little l-riemk and a Castle: Craigieim, 
was published by the Pemland Press."! wrote 
it for my grandnephews and the children of 
my friends in Scotland," Jeannie says. Illustra- 
tions for the book were supplied by the 
National Trust for Scotland; Craigievar is one 


of the trust's special properties. Jeannie can 
be reached at 3 Concord Ave., #B}. Cam- 
bridge. Mass. 0213S. 


Stella Hughes Julian, Providence, is Uving 
at the St. Joseph Living Center, which she 
describes as "an assisted hving faciUty with a 
warm, caring start' [where] tliey keep us very 
active." Her son Michael 'S6 received his 
master's in German Hterature and language 
from the University of Florida in lyyfi. He 
passed the bar exam and is working for the 
law firm of Yeager & Banks in Orlando. Stella 
can be reached at the St. Joseph Living Cen- 
ter. is_^ Dean St.. Providence o^yoi. 

Betty Baird Nickerson's husband, Hal, 
passed aw.iy on Nov. i . She is grateful he was 
able to attenci her 50th reunion in 1996. Betty 
lives in Peacham, Vt. 


Nancy Cantor Eddy and her husband. Bill, 
spent a weekend 111 February at a "wonderful" 
mini-reunion with cLissmates she hadn't seen 
in fifty years. The gathering took place at the 
Hardwick. Mass.. home of Achsah Shedaker 
Hinckley and her husband, Jack Campbell, 
a lawyer whom she married two years ago. 
Achsah and Jack will be in St. Petersburg, 
Russia, for two weeks in May, and in July they 
will embark on a weeklong hiking trip in 
Yorkshire Downs, England, followed by a 
week in Wales. They hope to attend the 50th 

Also present at the mini-reunion were 
Jane Weinert Nichols and lier husband, Alan 
'47. Jane and Alan live on fifteen acres of land 
in Sandwich, N.H., with their black Labrador 
retriever. They have three daughters and six 
grandchildren. In May they will take an eight- 
day canal trip, beginning 111 Wrenbury, Eng- 
land, and then head to Scotland tor a week. 
They will be joined by Bob Gifford '46, 
husband of the late Jane Luerssen Gifford. 
Nancy, Jane Nichols, and Jane Giftord were 
roommates m Pembroke's East House dorm 
during their freshman year. 

Nancy and Bill announce the birth of 
their second grandchild. Maxwell James Eddy, 
on Feb. 10. Maxwell's father, Wayne, is Nancy 
and Bill's youngest son. Wayne is president ot 
Work and Leisure, a company that sells ortho- 
pedic and safety equipment, in Hopkintoii, 
Mass. Nancy is pleased to announce that her 
grandniece, Courtney Nalibotf of Vienna, 
Maine, was accepted to Brown early action 
and plans to enter in the tall. 

Sehna Gold Fishbein, Providence, is a 
bookkeeper for her husband, Joseph, who is a 
dentist. Selnia and Joseph have four children 
and twelve grandchildren, the oldest of whom 
is a freshman at Harvard. Their oldest daugh- 
ter, Shari Fishbein-Mandel, is married and has 
four boVs. Their son, Keith '76, ',So M.D., is 

a cardiologist in New |ersey. He is married to 
Nancy Feldman '76. an ob-gyn, and they 
h.we three children. Sehiia's daughter Janm 
Slotkis IS married and has three children, and 
her youngest daughter, Aniv Waisel, is married 
and has two cliildren. 

Irene Wojcik Larochelle and her hus- 
band, John, live in Baton Rouge, La. John is 
retired, ,iiid the couple spends time visiting 
their two sons and two datighters. In Septem- 
ber 1996 they spent a week 111 La RocheUe, 
France, where John's taniily is from. 

Evelyn Roberts Nichols, Mars Hill, 
N.C., IS a nurse and still active with Hospice. 
She reports that she recently took a "fantastic" 
two-week trip to Kenya with the Brown 
University Travelers and Professor Nancy 
Jacobs. Evelyn says Jacobs was a "wonderful, 
informative leader" and recommends the 
experience to others. 

Lenore Saffer Tagerinan, Belmont, 
Mass., went on an African safari in February 
1997. In October, Lenore and Barbara 
Oberhard Epstein visited Bryce and Zion 
NatioiLil Parks, the Grand Canyon, and Sedona, 
Ariz. Lenore also traveled to Australia and 
New Zealand for three weeks in December 
and to Costa del Sol, Spain, in March. She 
was headed to Monterey, Calif, in May and 
to Turkey at the end of the summer. Lenore, 
who plans to attend the soth reunion, is 
an active tennis player and recently took up 
bridge and golf. 

Thelma Chun-Hoon Zen is recovering 
from a long illness and doing much better. 
She has four children: Eric, a lawyer; Mark, a 
psychiatrist; Burke, a teacher; and Kara. Thelma 
can be reached at 2231 Hyde St., Honolulu, 
Hawaii 96822. — Niiiicy Ciiiitor Eddy, prciidail 


Timely Educator: Change, the journal of 
the American Association for Higher Educa- 
tion, named Frank Newman '47 one of 
eighty "past, present, and future" leaders 
of higher education. Newman is president 
of the Education Commission of the States. 


We have reserved the Brown Faculty Club 
terrace tor our annual' otf-year mini-reunion 
cocktail parry on Friday, May 22, from 5 to 7 
p.m. All classmates, spouses, significant others, 
and families are welcome.The class officers 
and board members look forward to seeing 
you there. If you h.ive not paid your dues, 
please send a check for $25 (p.iyable to Brown 
University — C'lass ot hjso) to our treasurer, 
Maurice Bissonnette, 311 Laurel Ave., Prov- 
idence 0290(1. - M,n)' II. Hiilhiirii, sfcrciiny 
George E. Chapin, ( Ailuiubia. S.C.. 

writes: "Had a repeat ot our 4sth reunion a 
year later when I saw Dick Armstrong 
at Classical High School's soth reunion. 
Since then I've had a bout with esophageal 
squamous-ceU carcinoma. I survived the 
surgery, which I'm told was completely suc- 
cessful, but my voice did not!" 

Larry Lincoln (see Steve Lincoln 'Si) 


Henry Shea writes: "I'm enjoying retirement 
in Alpharetta, Ga.,just north of Atlanta. I'm 
active in golf, tennis, scuba diving, and the 

George Tingley. North Kingstown, 
R.L, retired from Swissair in 1991. He is now 
studying at the Community College of Rhode 
Island, where he is "getting up to date and 
up to speed on the Year 2000 problem." 


John Grainger retired alter t'orty-five years 
in the advertising business m New York City. 
"I'm now en|oyiiig the less hectic hte, " he 
writes. John recently traveled to Arizona and 
Florida, where his two grown children live. His 
third grandchild. Zachary, was born Dec. 25. 

Larry Kaufman (see Lisa Lebow 
Kaufman '8S). 


Robert Shumaker is professor emeritus at 
West Virginia University', where he taught 111 
the geology department. "I'm liaving the tune 
of my life doing research, working with grad 
students, and traveling with my bride of forty- 
four vears, Beverlv, " Bob writes. 


Ed Giberti returned to England eight years 
ago. There he manages his own international 
sports marketing consultancy and is active in 
the Brown Club of Great Britain, of which 
he is co-president. Ed invites classmates who 
are interested in serving on the 45th reunion 
committee to contact him at igTurmore 
Dale, Welwyn Garden City, Herts AL8 6HT, 
England; (44) 1707-394-8S4. 

Jerold O.Young (see Abbe Beth 
Robinson Young 'yS). 


Stuart R Erwin Jr. and his wite, Diane, moved 
to Rancho Santa Fe, Calif Stuart is chairman 
of die board of Park C;it>' (Utah) Performances 
and on the executive committee of KWED, 
the PBS station in Salt Lake City. He can be 
reached at PO. Box 7295,6727 Las Cohnas, 
Rancho Sant.i Fe 92067. 

♦ MAY /J U N i; 1 99S 


Hero with a Heart: The Des Moines Reg- 
ister recently reported the in-flight heroics 
of cardiac surgeon Robert Zeff '62. Three 
hours from London on a transatlantic flight, 
a fellow passenger developed what turned 
out to be a blood clot in her pulmonary 
artery. Zeff used CPR to revive the British 
woman, whose heart stopped several times. 
She survived the ordeal. 


Frank C. Dorsey (see Sarah Dorsey "89). 
Daniel K. Hardenbergh w rites: "Our 
supported work program for individuals with 
disabilities at JVS-Boston is expanding into 
services for chronically mentally-ill people. 
Old psych majors never die! As most of our 
Brown friends from the class of '56 have 
moved south, we'd love to hear from any ot 
you living in or visiting Boston. Mary Ann 
and I are m the Boston phone book, so look 
us up and give us a call." 


Our 40th reunion is a memory, but our 45th 
is still a promise. In preparation for 2002, we'd 
like to maintain and expand communication 
among class members. Please send your e-mail 
addresses to t'itry7secy(rt! Classnotes are 
welcome, too, and they can still be sent the old- 
taslnoned way. - Liiniii Pcrl^iiis Howard, secretary 

Michael Gereniia writes: "After Uving in 
the beautitul bluegrass country of Lexington, 
Ky, for the past two years, I moved to Winter 
Park, Fla., to retire." Michael worked in the 
airline industry for thirty years. 

Warren "Bud" Williams writes: "After 
almost thirr\- years of residence in Asia, my 
family and I moved to Swansea, in the south 
of Wales, in July 1995. The U.S. Army pro- 
vided the opportunity for me to see Southeast 
Asia in 1967 (I served as a captain and then a 
major with the special forces), and I fell 111 
love with the place. Pfizer, the pharmaceutical 
tirm. employed me in various executive posi- 
tions from 1970 to 19K2 111 South Africa, Viet- 
nam, Sri Lanka, Japan, ancf Hong Kong. In 
Hong Kong my wife, Isobel, and I founded 
our own consulting firm, which we ran suc- 
cessfully for more than ten years. Isobel is tak- 
ing a degree in Italian at the University of 
Wales. Our daughter, Katie, 13, was selected 
last year for the Glamorgan County under- 
fifteens field hockey team and spends a lot of 
tune horseback riding and playing tennis. 
She is doing very well at the Ffynnone House 
School. I am semi-retired, although I'm 
spending a lot ot time in Asia, studying Welsh 
at the university, and singing second tenor 

with the Dunvant male choir,Wales's largest 
and oldest male voice choir. I retired as a 
rugby referee two years ago. 1 am very inter- 
ested in re-establishing contact with my 
Brown triends." Bud can be reached at The 
Coach House, 20 Western Ln., Mwmbwls, 
Swansea SA3 4EY,Wales; (01792) 360-356. 



Theodore P. Cohen (see Wendy L. 
Cohen 'S9). 

Tom Moses, Reading, Pa., writes: "Skip 
Hokanson '59 is marketing a device that 
shuts off car radios when in the vicinity of 
emergency vehicles. He recently flew to 
Detroit to discuss it with CM otTicials. While 
in the Midwest he dropped in on George 
Vandervoort and his wite, Mimi, in Chicago. 
This summer my wit'e, Judy, and I met Dave 
Bliss and his wife, Marty, for brunch in State 
CAillege, Pa. Dave lives in a mountaintop 
home in the historic town of BeUefonte, Pa. 
We spend weekends at my brother's log tan- 
ner's cabin in the nearby artists' village of 
Boalsburg. We are planning a lawn parry for 
the Penn State arts and craft show. All class- 
mates are invited. George Vandervoort con- 
tinues to commute to the Far East, primarily 
to China. For a while he kept an apartment 
in Bangkok. I talked to Pete Kopke recently. 
His son William is applying to Brown in the 
fall. His oldest son, Pete Jr. '91, is completing 
a Ph.D. in computer science at Cornell. The 
elder Pete was in a serious car accident in 
which he was hit head-on by a larger car and 
had to be removed by the jaws ot lite. Luckily, 
he suffered only two broken ribs. He recently 
moved his forry-tive-foot cruiser from his 
summer home in the Hamptons to a small 
village near Cannes in the south of France. 
His New Year's resolution is to spend more 
time on the Riviera. I think we can all 
echo those sentiments." 

Abbe Beth Robinson Young and 
Jerold O.Young '54 write that their son, 
Andrew R.Young 'S6, and his wife, Lita, 
have a new baby girl, Nicola Rose Young; 
daughter Carina is 3. Abbe and Jerry's daugh- 
ter Marji Young Chimes '84 and her hus- 
band, Lew, have a new baby boy, Joseph Young 
Chimes; son Daniel is 3. Another daughter, 
Betsy Young Harris '82, and her husband, 
Dave Harris '80, have two sons, Jason, 10, 
and Alex, 7. Jerry is president and Abbe is trea- 
surer of Harold W Young Inc., a New England 
food broker. Betsy is vice president ot sales 
and marketing, and Andrew is vice president 
of supermarkets, vending, and convenience 
stores. Marji is director of public relations tor 
Ethan Allen Furniture in Danbury, Coini. 
Ablie, Jerry, Andrew, and Lita have just returned 
from Lima, Peru, where they visited Lita's 
family and traveled to Macchu Picchu to see 
the Andes Mountains and the Inca ruins. Jerry 
and Abbe still live in Newton Ontre, Mass.; 
Betsy and Andrew live in Needham, Mass.; 
and Maiji lives m Stamford, Conn. 

Dave Kline (see Scott C. Bush '71). 


Alan Caldwell lives m Gardenville, Nev., 
near Lake Tahoe. He owns a renewable energy 
company, which has developed "an innovative 
type ot wind turbine," Alan writes. "The tur- 
bines will be the wmdpower component of 
renewable energy power systems designed to 
provide utility-grade power to remote areas ot 
the world currently without power, or with 
only substandard power." Alan can be reached 
at (702) 782-8471; sierranv(ajpyramid. net. 


Carole Gannon Potter '62 M.A.T. recently 
attended her high school reunion, where 
she saw Barbara Bordieri Spiezio and her 
husband, Nick '63, as well as Judy Darling 
Grimes and her husband. Bill '59. Carole's 
daughter, Sara Caitlin Potter, will graduate 
from Brown m M.iy. Her son. Christian, 
received a master's in environmental law from 
Creorge Washington University. Carole has 
three grandsons, William, 6, Matthew, 4, and 
Dillon, 2. She is head teacher at New Discov- 
eries, the preschool at Our Lady of Mercy 
School in East Greenwich, R.I. 

Alan Tapper (see Lisa Lebow Kauf- 
man 88). 


Michael D. Shapiro and his wife, Ann- 
Louise Stickler Shapiro '80 Ph.D., bicycled 
on Coastal Highway 1 from San Francisco to 
Santa Barbara this fall. From there, they trav- 
eled to Los Angeles, where they visited 
Michael's sophomore roommate, Joel A. Cas- 
sel, and his wite, Lise.They were joined tor 
dinner by Anthony Rosenthal and his wife, 
Lyn."Our California friends were shocked 
that we undertook this trip without a support 
van or even a cellular phone," Michael writes. 
Michael continues to practice law in New 
London, Conn., and Ann-Louise is a history 
professor atWesleyan University in Middle- 
town, Conn. They can be reached at 6s Shore 
Rd., Old Lvme, Conn. 06371; (860) 434-9966. 


John C. Pennoyer has been superintendent 
of Adams County School District 14 (Com 
eice City, Colo.) since September. 


Steven B. Karch. Berkeley, Calif. pubHshed 
the DruiiAhiiie llainlhook and .'I Brief 


History of Cocaine (CRC Press). 

A.Thomas Levin, Rockville Centre, 
N.Y., has been elected vice president of the 
New York State Bar Association for the tenth 
judicial district (Nassau and Suffolk counties). 
He is also serving as a member of the board 
of the Long Island Community Foundation. 


John E. Finnerty '6X A.M. was selected by 
the New Jersey State Bar Association's family 
law section to receive this year's Saul Tischler 
Award. The award recognizes John's contribu- 
tions to the practice of family law in New 
Jersey. John is a partner in the Paramus law 
firm Hartn'ian,Winnicki & Finnerty and has 
been involved in several decisions that have 
set legal precedents in New Jersey. 

Donald Roth is executive director of the 
St. Louis Symphony. Previously, he was presi- 
dent of the Oregon Symphony in Portland. 


John M. Cross, Washington, D.C., is C.E.Q 
of business essentials at the U.S. division of an 
audiomagazine company headquartered in 
Melbourne, Austraha."We publish the maga- 
zine specifically for small businesses around 
the country," John writes. His daughter, Anne, 
is a junior at Wellesley College. John can be 
reached at 

Maryanne Cline Horowitz published 
Seeds of I 'irtiie ami Kiiou'lal}>e (Princeton Uni- 
versity Press), which explores the image and 
idea of the human mind as a garden. Maryanne 
is a history professor at Occidental College 
and an associate of the Center of Medieval 
and Renaissance Studies at the University of 
California at Los Angeles. 

Gilcin F. Meadors announces the adop- 
tion of a fourth daughter, Justine Beth. Gilcin 
writes, "She has been with us on an informal 
basis for four years and is now in the fifth 
grade. She is a spelling whiz, hates math and 
little boys, and plays first flute in the city- 
wide Winchester Elementary School band." 
Gilcin can be reached at P.O. Box S3, Fliiit- 
stone, Md. 21530. 


Deborah Cooney (see John J. Cooney 

Jr. '41). 

Nelson Martins (see Tara Brennan '92). 

Melora Pond Mirza's son.Taric, gradu- 
ated from Trinity College in May 1997 and is 
a software engineer atTVisions in Cambridge. 
Her younger son, Adam, is a sophomore at 
Williams College. Melora, who lives in Atlanta, 
is head of reference and an assistant professor 
at DeKalb College, Dunwoody campus. She is 
working on her second master's degree at 
Agnes Scott College and teaching in several 
continuing education programs. Her husband. 

Usman, is "an entrepreneur, investment 
banker, and the taniily chet," she reports. 

Chuck Primus and his wife, Romana 
Strochlitz Primus, have renovated the fam- 
ily business. Whaling City Ford, which is the 
largest Ford dealership in southeastern Con- 
necticut. Chuck writes, "Romana's recovery 
after being run over by a car on August i , 
1996, has been miraculous." In June President 
Clinton appointed Romana to a five-year 
term as a member of the United States Holo- 
caust Memorial Council. She chairs a com- 
mittee planning a 1999 conference in Wash- 
ington on Jewish life in the D.P. camps after 
World War II. Chuck and Romana's older 
son, Richard, will graduate from law school in 
June. Their twin daughters, Ida and Lisa, are 
both in medical school. Their younger son, 
Aryeh, works for a computer company near 
Boston. Chuck and Romana can be reached 
at rrpri(a' 

Carlyle A. Thayer was given a personal 
chair and promoted to full professor in the 
school of politics, University College, Aus- 
tralian Defence Force Academy. Carlyle just 
completed a three-year term as head of school 
and coordinator for the graduate program in 
defense studies. He is spending 1998 on sab- 
batical as a visiting fellow at the Strategic and 
Defense Studies Centre in Canberra, working 
on post-Cold War security issues in Southeast 
Asia. Carlyle can be reached at c-thayer@ 


Russell K. Chan and his wife. Sheila, 
announce the birth of their first child, Steph- 
anie Ying, on June 11, 1997. Russell writes, 
"She was born in the same hospital as the 
famous Iowa septuplets, but we find our hands 
full taking care of one baby, let alone seven." 
The family can be reached at (515) 278-8405; 

Victoria Aldridge Kingslien, Centre- 
ville,Vii., writes: "I am riding horseback as 
much as possible, either on my own Arabians 
or on some outfitter's steeds around the 
world. Randolph Williams (Michigan '66) and 
I e.xplore nature near and far, from sea kayak- 
ing with gray whales off the coast of Baja 
California to dredging oysters from a skipjack 
m the Chesapeake. At work at the INS, I'm 
special assistant to the executive associate 
commissioner for management. I look for- 
ward to the 30th reunion. " 


Mark Davis (see David Hahn '78). 

Stephen P. Nugent, Barrington, K.I., 
was sworn in as public defender of Rhode 
Island by Governor Lincoln Almond on July 
24, after twenty-tour years in private practice 
as a trial lawyer in Providence. Stephen's 
daughter Kara '98 interned tor U.S. Senator 
Jack Reed m Washington, D.(!., last summer. 

His son Michael is a senior in high school, 
and his daughter Maura is a junior His wife. 
Mary, is a pediatric nurse practitioner. Stephen 
is chair of this year's Commencement Pops 


Jeffrey G. Bergart. Acton, Mass. .joined 
Krohne America Inc. as its chief financial otTi- 
cer. In January, Jeffrey watched his son, David. 
18, compete in the Ski-Archery World Cham- 
pionships 111 Italy, where he was the top 
American finisher. 

John F. Cooney (see John J. Cooney 
Jr. '41). 

Marilynn Mair (see David Hahn '78). 


Scott C. Bush works for Massachusetts 
Mutual Life Insurance Co. in Springfield, 
Mass. He is second vice president and associ- 
ate general counsel in MassMutual's law 
department, where he works on the company's 
real estate investments. Commercial real estate 
investment has been his area of concentration 
since he began practicing law in 1974. Scott 
joined MassMutual almost two years ago as a 
result of a merger with his previous employer, 
Comiecticut Mutual Life. He is happily 
divorced and living in Enfield, Conn. Scott 
writes: "Constant change and unpredictability 
are, at the same time, life's great challenge and 
life's great charm. In one twelve-montli period, 
I started this new job, divorced, moved, and 
took (and passed) the Massachusetts bar exam. 
Life indeed goes on, and very happily. I have 
two wonderful children of whom 1 am most 
proud: Jennifer, 27, and Robert, 17. 1 am 
also very happy to be working with three of 
Brown's finest in the MassMutual law depart- 
ment: Dave Kline "59, Al Santopietro '69, 
and Ken Cohen." Scott can be reached at 

Carol Locke Campbell, San Jose, Calif., 
was elected president of the Santa Clara Valley 
chapter of the California Association of Mar- 
riage and Family Therapists. She can be reached 

Terry Schwadron joined the XcwYork 
Times m January as senior editor tor informa- 
tion and technology. Terry had worked at the 
/,c'< Aiii^eles I'iiiies tor seventeen years. His wife. 
Patch Simon Schwadron '72. and daughter 
Hannah, 16, moved to the Upper West Side 
in June. Patch (a former member of the BAM 
board) was conducting her New York job 
search in the field of career development and 
counseling at the time of this report. Their 
daughter Julia, 21, graduates from the Univer- 
sity of California at San Diego in June with 
a degree m studio art and sociology. Son 
Louis, 19, IS a French horn pl.iyer studying at 
the New England C'onservatory. 

Carolyn Smith, Mill Valley, C'alif .spent 
last fall 111 Russi.i. the Ukraine, and central 

64 ♦ M A Y / J U N 1; I y 9 8 

Looking Back 

When the Stars 
Come Out 

The little pops concert that 
grew and grew 

In 1965, members of the Brown Club of 
Rhode Island and the Pembroke Club of Prov- 
idence decided to stage a Commencement- 
weekend concert in honor of the University's 
bicentennial. They engaged actress-singer 
Martha Wright and the Rhode Island Philhar- 
monic, and 2,100 people turned out on the 
Pembroke campus for an evening that the 
July 1965 issue of the BAM pronounced "an 
overwhelming success." Little did those first 
organizers know that the Pops Concert, con- 
ceived as a one-time event, would take its 
place alongside such staples as Campus 
Dance and Commencement forums in the 
liturgy of reunion weekend. 

Three decades later, 4,000 people plunk 
down around $40 apiece (the price varies by 
table location) to attend the Pops Concert, 
now held on the main Green to accommo- 
date the crowd. It is, by all accounts, a magi- 
cal evening, and not simply because of the 
music. "It's the ambiance," says Teresa 
Cagnon Mellone '39, a member of the plan- 

At left, the 1965 Pops 
Concert Committee and 
waitstaff; below, 1996 
headliner Rita Moreno. 

ning committee and a Pops Concert patron 
for two decades. "It's just something special, 
with University Hall illuminated in the back- 
ground and the lanterns all over the Green." 

The evening's seamless elegance, how- 
ever, belies the many months of planning and 
haggling that bring it to fruition. For example, 
selecting an entertainer and negotiating a 
contract can be excruciating, says Stephen 
Nugent '69, cochair of the planning commit- 
tee. Not only does the committee have to 
agree on a performer who will appeal to an 
audience that runs the gamut from teenagers 
to nonagenarians, but it has to work within 
the confines of a budget. 

Ray Charles, this year's headliner, fits the 
bill. "We're spending more for him than 
we've ever spent," admits Nugent, but he 
deems Charles well worth the price because 
of his broad appeal. "It's getting harder and 

harder to get the kinds of artists we associate 
with a Pops concert," Mellone says. "The 
musical tastes of young people are different." 

This year's spectacle will follow in the 
grand tradition of concerts past, when the 
likes of Michael Feinstein, Marvin Hamlisch, 
Maureen McGovern, and even Partridge 
Family matriarch Shirley Jones have graced 
the stage, accompanied by the Philharmonic. 
With Charles on board, the committee's big- 
gest worry is that rain might force the event 
inside Meehan Auditorium, which can accom- 
modate only 3,300. "It hasn't rained in ten 
years," says a hopeful Nugent, "but then 
again, it's not every year that we're contend- 
ing with El Nino." - Torri Still 

Asia teaching seminars for the U.N. on H.I.V. 
counseling. "I taught 250 doctors, some 
of whom were afraid to touch someone with 
H.I.V." Carolyn writes. "It was extremely chal- 
lenging work that had its own little moments 
ot reward and satisfaction." 


Deborah Lisker started a new part-time job 
HI January at Berwind Corp. in Philadelphia. 
"Ed, Hilary, Benjamin, and I enjoyed the 2Sth 
reunion last May. We visited Pat Myskowski 
'74 Sc.M.. '75 M.D. and her family over the 
summer, after seeing them at the reunion." 

Andrew N. Price, South Burlington.Vt., 
was named president of Champlain Enter- 
prises Inc., operator of USAirways Express/ 
CommutAir. Andrew has been in the airline 
industry' for twenty-three years and previously 
worked forTrans World Airlines, Air North, 

and Piedmont Express before joining C'ham- 
plain m IV92. 


Julia Wood Foster is a pathologist at St. 
Joseph's Hospital in Atlanta. Her husband, 
Larry, is a history professor at Georgia Tech. 
They have four children: David, 11, loves 
computers: Paul, 10, wants to be a theoretical 
physicist: Laura, 7, is a budding artist and pedi- 
atric occupational therapist who also wants 
to be a mommy and begs us for a little sister; 
and Eric, 7, Laura's twin, who has mild perva- 
sive developmental disorder (an autistic spec- 
trum disorder), loves trains, draws beautifully, 
and works hard developing communication 
and sticial skills. 

Robert D. Lane Jr. joined the Philadel- 
phia law firm ot Morgan, Lewis & Bockius, 
the nation's fourth-largest firm. He is part of 

the real estate group, which focuses on real 
estate law, financing, and financial regulatory 
law. Robert was formerly with the Philadel- 
phia firm Pepper, Hamilton &' Scheetz. 


Michael J. Busko is division vice president 
for Hertz CHaim Managment in Park Ridge, 
N.J. He lives 111 Newburgh, N.Y., with his 
wite, Mary, and their sons, Nikolai, lA, and 
Ale.xei, 13, who both play hockey and musical 

Barbara Ehrlich (see Stanley L. 
Ehrlich 4s). 

Ken Field has a new e-mail address and 
Web site: fieldk(g!worldnet. http:// 

Faye V. Harrison has a new position at 
tlie University of South Carolina as graduate 
director of women's studies and professor of 

B K O W N ALUMNI M A G A Z I N K ♦ 6 <, 

anthropology. She is also coordinating a sym- 
posium on women and gender for the 14th 
International Congress of Anthropological 
and Ethnological Sciences, which will be held 
111 Williamsburg, Va.. from July 26 to Aug. i. 


Alice JafFe and Bernard Rose (Columbia 'fi6) 
were married on Nov. rs in New York City. 

Meredith Miller Post lives in Norwalk, 
Conn., with her husband, Frank, an artist, 
and their children, Madeline, II, Chloe, 8, and 
Phihp, 3 . Meredith writes tor the TV soap Days 
of Our Lives. Both of her daughters act and 
can be seen in the upcoming films OhJM of 
My Affeclioii. with Jennifer Aniston, and S/c;i- 
iiwiH, with Juha Roberts and Susan Sarandon. 


Marc Cardwell, Vienna, Va., is a foreign ser- 
vice officer and recently returned from six- 
teen months in Beirut, Lebanon. After more 
than a decade of involvement with Latin 

America, he has shifted his focus to the Mid- 
dle East. "It's almost like a career change," he 
writes. Mark has a 9-year-old son with whom 
he spends "a lot of time sailing, snorkeling, 
and developing his soccer game." Marc expects 
to be m Washington for the next few years 
and hopes to attend his 2Sth reunion. 

Manuel E. DaRosa, Bristol, R.L, was 
promoted to chief financial officer at Meeting 
Street Center, the Rhode Island affiliate of 
the Easter Seal Society. 

Jane Mackenzie Dennison, Barnngton, 
R.L, writes: "Still doing pediatrics m a grow- 
ing, wonderful practice. Still raising four boys. 
Still wonder where all the time went!" 

Keith Fishbein \So M.D. and Nancy 
Feldman (see Selma Gold Fishbein '48). 

Bill Holber (see Jose Estabil "84). 

Janet SchafFel (seejesselyn Brown "92). 


Stephen Ehrlich (see Stanley L. Ehrlich '4si 

Stephen Golub writes; "My path since 
graduation has included bartending in Wash- 
ington, D.C., and New York City; political 

campaigns and city government in New York; 
bopping around the world for eighteen 
months; surviving Harvard Law School; fund- 
ing overseas democratic development projects 
for a San Francisco-based foundation; spend- 
ing 1987-93 in the Philippines, first for the 
foundation and then on a Fulbnght fellow- 
ship; and settling into Kensington, Calif, near 
Berkeley, to consult for international develop- 
ment organizations. I currently direct a long- 
term Ford Foundation review of its overseas 
legal services and human-rights programs; 
research foreign aid for legal systems and civil 
society, with support from the Carnegie 
Endowment for International Peace and 
George Soros's Open Society Institute; and 
teach a course on law and development at 
the University of California's Boalt Hall 
School of Law. I love my work and the Bay 
Area." Stephen can be reached at (510) 559- 
85 8 1 ; 

Mark Hauser (see Susan Motamed '89). 

Francis Jamiel, Warren, RL, and his 
family were honored at the National Kidney 
Foundation's Gift of Life reception, hosted by 
Today's Matt Lauer, in Providence in Novem- 
ber Francis donated a kidney to his brother, 



With a youngest son's typical charisma. My out- 
standing client has made his fortune, and now this 
ivy-educated entrepreneur 37, seeks a pretty, whole- 
some partner, 24-35, for adventure, for romance, for 
life! She must be warmhearted, upbeat, energetic, 
and fit. Sound like you? If so, call me, Joyce Siegel, 
at (401) 331-9853. An INTRODUCTIONS per- 
sonal search. Our client has paid all fees. 

Graduates and faculty of the Ivies and Seven Sisters 
meet alumm and academics. THE RIGHT STUFF. 
(800) 988-5288. 


CAPE COD: Buyer Brokerage of Osterville, 
exclusive buyer agents, offers market knowledge, 
experienced representation, skilled negotiating, 
and personalized attention at no additional cost 
to discriminating home buyers. (800) 290-1S04; 


1978 Brown University Himalayan Expedition 
members' 20th anniversary reunion at this year's 
Commencement, May 22— 25. We need and want to 
hear from you. Please contact Tom Binet, rtoo West 
End Ave., New York, NY 10024. Telephone (h) 
(212) 799-4436. (w) (212) 765-8770; Alexis Ward (h) 
(212) 684-3144, e-mail: alexisward@ 



Very old and well maintained. Excellent location if 
views, comfort, pool, and Chianti Classico wine 
are something you enjoy, 
tuscany/chianti/granaio.htm. (800) 700-9549. 
(203) 259-2916. 

MAINE. The Bradford Camps, Box 729BRN,Ash- 
land, ME 04732: (207) 746-7777 summer, (207) 439- 
6364 winter Since 1890 this traditional sporting 
camp has been a premier retreat for sportsmen and 
naturalists, the only camp on beautiful Munsungan 
Lake. Fly-fish and spm-cast for native salmon, togue, 
brookies, and bluebacks in the lake and nearby 
waters. Hiking, swimming, canoeing, moose watch- 
ing, sporting clays, photography, expert guide ser- 
vice. Comfortable and clean waterfront log cabins 
with full bath and three hearty meals daily. A 
remote North Maine Woods paradise. 

MAINE COAST: Phippsburg-West Point.Two 
houses available June, July, and August. One house 
with 3 bedrooms, other with 4 bedrooms; each has 
sauna. Water on 3 sides; private point and small 
sandy beach. Call. (97S) 369-0369. 

Majors Cove waterfront community, 3-bedrooni 
contemporary, Jacuzzi bath, tennis, minutes to 
beach. (508) 668-9322. 

NANTUCKET. Family home overlooking Polpis 
Harbor. Beach walks, biking, birding, spectacular 
sunsets. Top restaurants nearby. Weekly/monthly. 
(310) 454-0142. 

NEW ZEALAND. Trout-fishing paradise on Lake 
Taupo, quiet resort village. (401) 434-1071. 

NORMANDY. Superb natural park near Pans. 
Designer's idyllic 18th-century hilltop farmhouse. 
Panorama, vast garden. Exceptional restoration, 
French country decor, antiques. 2 bedrooms. 
Telephone/fax: (33) 233-836-795. 

ONTARIO. Secluded 32-acre island, Georgian Bay 
(Great Lakes) for rent. Available July and August 
1998. Main lodge, two cabins, cook/caretaker cou- 
ple included. Call Alec at (561) 451-0909. or e-mail for color brochure. 

POLAND. B&B, Prussian manor house, Mazunan 
lake region, fishing, biking, bird-watching, ecologi- 

cally purest part of Europe. $35 /night, (on) 48-89- 
513-9211 (Poland), (504) 343-7147 (Los Angeles), Ron Dwight '66. 

PROVENCE. Charming 4-bedrooni, 2-bath village 
house. Fireplace, antiques, terrace, garden. Small 
wine town near Avignon. (415) 536-2656. 

PROVENCE. Delightful, roomy farmhouse. 
Roman/medieval town. (860) 672-6608. 

PROVENCE. Lovely hilltop village home in 
Luberon. Beautiful views. Pool. Sleeps 4. (847) 

ROME, ITALY. Eighteenth-century country villa. 
Spectacular views. Featured in Gourmet magazine. 
(609) 921-8595. 

ST. MAARTEN. Small, private, creamy pink villas 
on the sea. Secluded snorkeling, Tahitian gardens, 
1-3 bedrooms. Maria Licari, (800) 942-6725. 

ST.JOHN, U.S. Virgin Islands. Brand new villa. 
Private tennis court and pool. Accommodates 2 to 
1 2. Walk to beaches. Great views. (800) 484-7143, 
code 4739. 


I to 3 consecutive inserrions. $2.50/word 

4 to 6 consecutive insertions $2.35/word 

Copy deadline is six weeks prior to issue date. Pub- 
lished bimonthly in September, November, January, 
March. May. and July. Prepayment required. Make 
check p.iyable to Brown University; or charge to 
your Visa, MasterCard, or American Express. Send 
to: Brown Ahwiiii Md^d^iHC, Box 1854, Providence, 
R.I. 02912. 

6 6 ♦ IM A Y / J U N U 1998 

GeofF, in 1994. The Janiiel family, which 
includes Francis's brother Joe '80, received 
the Outstanding Donor Family Award. 

Jack Manning was named vice president 
of engineering at General Dynamics Arma- 
ment Systems in Burlington, Vt. Since joining 
the company in 191X1 when it w,is a division 
of General Electric, John has held leadership 
positions in engineering, manufacturing, 
finance, business development, and strategic 
planning. His current assignment is to manage 
more than 200 engineers and technicians in 
a variety of defense and aerospace programs. 
Jack and his wife, Ann, live in lericho,Vt., 
with their sons.William, 10, and Ben|ainin. 7. 
Jack is the son of the late William H. Man- 
ning SI and his wite, Marion, who submit- 
ted this note. 

Linda Ann Moulton and her husband, 
Ron Goddard, live in Cotuit,Mass., on Cape 
Cod, with their 6-year-old twin girls. Linda 
recently left banking and became the treasurer 
of Chicago Miniature Lamp Inc., a manufac- 
turer and distributor of miniature and sub- 
miniature lighting systems that owns Sylvania 
Lighting International. Linda can be reached 
at lmoulton(a' 

Meryl Pearlstein was appointed director 
of media strategy at KWE Associates in New 
York City. In addition to her new role, Meryl 
will continue as account supervisor on several 
ot the agency's travel and tourism accounts, 
which include The Equinox, La Casa Que 
Canta, and Grace Bay Club. Meryl joined 
KWE Associates in 1993. 

James Risen coauthored IVratli ofAiigels: 
Tlie American Abortion War (Basic Books), which 
traces the rise and fall of the American anti- 
abortion movement. James, an investigative 
reporter for the Loi Angeles Times, lives in 
Washington, DC. 


Martin F. Carr '81 M.D. writes: "Greetings 
to my '78 classmates. Three wonderful guys, 
David, 4, James, 3, and John Patrick, i, are 
making this reunion one that my wife. Mary, 
and I will attend only m a virtual sense. (Any- 
one setting up a Web site video Hnk for the 
20th reunion?) I'm busy as a stomach doctor 
in FuUerton, Calif, a nice city eight miles 
from Disneyland. Like everyone out here who 
can type, my hobby is writing, but I'm as 
yet unpublished and unoptioned. Fortunately, 
I still like my day job. Best wishes to my fel- 
low med-sci classmates who make it to Provi- 
dence this year." Martin can be reached at 

David Hahn and his wife, Gordana 
Crnkovic, announce the birth of their first 
child, Zora, born Nov. 28. Zora was delivered 
by Dr Barbara Detering '85. David and 
Gordana live in Seatde and are hoping to mo\e 
to the East Coast m the near future. David 
IS a composer and recently pubhshed a suite 
of pieces for mandolin and guitar titled Zoo- 
logical Bagalclles.The work was premiered 


Undermining Misery: Holly Myers '76 
and her crusade against land mines made 
the pages of the Portola Valley (Calif.) 
County Almanac. Myers, the founder of the 
Palo Alto-based U.S. Campaign to Ban 
Landmines, told the Almanac. "Land mines 
are devastating the environment and 
affecting the poorest of the poor." 

in November by the Mair-Davis Duo (Mark 
Davis '69 and Marilynn Mair '70) at the 
Kentucky Center for the Arts in Louisville. 
Last year, David received an award from the 
American Society of Composers, Authors, 
and Publishers. He can be reached at 10027 
31st Ave., NE, Seatde 98125; crnkovic(§!u. 

Bill Lichtenstein, New York City, and 
June Peoples were married June 21, 1997, at 
the Seven Hills Country Inn in Lenox, Mass. 
June is a former city editor with the Times 
Herald Record, a daUy newspaper outside New 
York City. She is currently working with Bill 
at Lichtenstein Creative Media as the pro- 
ducer of the pubhc radio program "The Infi- 
nite Mind," featuring Dr. Fred Goodwin 
and John Hockenberry. 

Amanda Stearns MeruUo and her hus- 
band, Roland '75, announce the birth of their 
tirst child, Alexandra Stearns Merullo, born 
Dec. 17 in Northampton, Mass. Amanda writes: 
"After eighteen years of marriage we've 
entered a new realm! Roland is teaching one 
semester a year at Bennington College and 
working on his third novel, which will be 
published by Holt in the tall. 1 am on mater- 
nirs' leave from my job as photographer at 
Historic Deertield Museum. We are both lucky 
to be home to enjoy Alexandra's first months." 
They can be reached at 565 WiUiamsburg Rd., 
Williamsburg, Mass. 01096; roland@ javanet. 


Glenn Grayson joined the law firm of Wal- 
lace, Saunders, Austin, Brown, & Enochs in 
Overland Park, Kans. He is practicing mainly 
in the area of employment law. Glenn, his 
wife, Carolyn, and two daughters have been 
living in Kansas for almost four years and 
"really love it here," CUenn reports. 

George Hogeman lives m Falls Church. 
Va., with his wife. Cleri, and their children, 
Ted and Ellie. He works on overseas refugee 
assistance for Southeast Asia at the State 

Alice-Diane Lohr is looking forward to 
hearing trom old tViends and getting together 
at the 20th reunion. She can be reached at 
1360 Camellia C'lr., Weston. Fla. 33326; lece_ 

Mary Mazzocco and Jonathan Austin 
announce the birth of Alleana Ruth Austin, 
born Jan. 21. "Everyone is doing fine," Mary 
writes. Through mid-July, she is on leave from 
her job as books editor for the Contra Costa 
(Calit.) Times. She can be reached at mazz(§ 

Lauren A. McDonald was .ippointed 
president of the medical staff of St. Paul Med- 
ical Center in Dallas. An associate attending 
physician on staff at St. Paul since 1990, she 
is the first woman and youngest appointee to 
serve as president. Lauren is associated with 
Dallas Nephrolog)' Associates, where she 
serves as medicil director of the Mockingbird 
Dialysis Center. 

Aaron Schuinan develops software for 
ultnisound medical instruments at Acuson 
Computed Sonography in Mountain View, 
Calif He can be reached via e-mail at aaron_ 

Eliza Strode, who has managed consumer 
cooperatives tor fifteen years, graduated with a 
B.A. in conflict resolution and violence pre- 
vention from the University of Massachusetts 
at Amherst in 1997. She also received a mas- 
ter's in social work (clinical) firom Smith Col- 
lege the same year. "Seven classmates and I 
went skydiving as our rite of passage," Eliza 
writes. "Not bad for someone who has a fear 
of heights." In Guatemala this spring for a 
Spanish-language immersion program, she 
will live and work in Massachusetts upon her 
return. Her interests include photography, 
victim-sensitive victim-otTender dialogue, and 
volunteer work with prison inmates through 
the Alternatives to 'Violence Program. She 
can be reached at 9 Clinton Path, #1 , Brook- 
line, Mass. 02146. 


Norman Alpert, Purchase, N.Y., writes: "My 
family is well, and my four kids - Caroline, 
10, Erin, 9, Heidi, 6, and Adam, 4 - keep Jane 
and me very busy. The only tough thing to 
face in 199S is my 40th birthday, but so will 
most everyone in the class of '80. So, I guess 
I'll try to lose some weight instead." 

James D. Barron published his first 
book. She's Hairing a Baliy - and I'm Having 
a Breakdown (William Morrow). The book, a 
man-to-man guide tbr fathers-to-be, gives 
advice on how to get through pregnancy. James 
is an art dealer and writes for publications 
such as Glamour, the Paris Revieti', and Garden 
Design. He lives in New York City and 
Connecticut with his wife and two children. 

Sarah Freiberg Ellison writes: "After 
tweiirs' years away. I've mcned back into the 
house in \\ Inch I grew up, 111 Behiioiit. Mass. 
My parents. Mildred Pansey Freiberg '32 
and Malcolm Freiberg '47 A.M., '51 Ph.D., 
have moved just two miles away to a glorious 
condo in an eighteenth-century farmhouse. 
Meanwhile, my new son, Lloyd (born Sept. 
28), and daughter, Lenora, 3, are enjoying 
their new abode. My husband.Jetf Ellison, a 



Rising from 
the Ashes 

A book about African-American 
history stretcfies the comic-booli 

Four years ago, Roland Laird hit bottom. He 
and his wife of four months, Taneshia, had 
just lost their home to a gas-line explosion. 
Gone up in flames, too, were Laird's prized 
comic-book collection and all the story 
ideas for Posro Komics, a publishing house 
he and Taneshia had founded to help popu- 
larize African-American culture. 

Then, just as suddenly, "an opportunity 
fell into our laps," Laird recalls. He and his 
wife received a proposal for what would 
become their book. Still I Rise: A Cartoon 
History of African Americans {\N.\N. Norton). 
Although Posro had published several suc- 
cessful comic-book series and strips - most 
notably "The Criots," which was reaching 
more than a million readers weekly - Laird 
had never tackled a project of this scope. 
The 200-page history of African-American 
life from slavery to the Million Man March 
"was an opportunity to do something more 
- to collaborate with young African-Ameri- 
can artists and do work that is relevant to 
the African-American community," he says. 

Over a year and a half. Laird, a software 
engineer and lifelong comic-book junkie, 
painstakingly worked with Taneshia on the 

tea ioT Still I Rise. Historians from Prince- 
ton and the University of Michigan fact- 
checked the work and made sure the dia- 
logue was true to the speech patterns of 
each era. Once the script was completed, it 
went to illustrator Elihu "Adofo" Bey, who 
gave faces to the voices, creating hundreds 
of detailed drawings. "It was like watching 
a movie being brought to life," says Laird. 
The resulting book has been named 
an alternate selection by the Book-of-the- 
Month Club. 

While Still I Rise is technically a comic 
book, it is less like Superman and more like 
Art Spiegelman's Maus. "I don't expect it to 
take the place of traditional prose," Laird 
says of his book's format, "but it definitely 
augments it - it's 'edutainment'." Comic 
books appeal to people of all ages, he adds, 
and can draw young people who might 
not pick up a history book. 

Laird has more comic-book projects in 
the works, including a volume about hip- 
hop; he is also toying with the idea of writ- 
ing a screenplay about his experiences at 
Brown. In the meantime, he and Taneshia 
are enjoying their new home. - Torri Still 

Re-visit Rhode Island and Stay at Our 

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Fitness Room, Home to $30 GOLF. 

visit our wchsile M 

Near Newport, Mystic, Ct. & Casinos. 

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800-782-3224 401-348-8200 

chemist, works in Cambridge at Epix Medical 
Inc. Although I have cut down on my time 
away from home, I still play cello with the 
Portland (Oreg.) Baroque Orchestra and Phil- 
harmonia Baroque of San Francisco and am a 
contributmg editor for Strings magazine. Now 
that 1 am back east, 1 have enjoyed catching 
up with old friends from Brown, including 
Pat Carroll Ingram, Laurel Shader '8i, 
and Ellen Langer 'Si." Sarah can be reached 
at 54 Stults Rd., Belmont 02178; (617) 484- 

Steve Friedman, Chesterfield, Mo., was 
named by Multimedia Producer magazine one 
of the top 100 multimedia producers in the 
United States. 

Dave Harris (see Abbe Beth Robin- 
son Young sS). 

Roberta Lawrence. Troy, N.Y., took a 
tour of Renaissance mural paintings in Italy 
last January. Her handmade book containing 
electronic images is traveling with a group art 
show sponsored by CIVA (Christians in the 
Visual Arts). Roberta writes:"! hope to keep 
this hi-tech, hi-touch thing going as I con- 
tinue to explore graphic design (and wonder 
why I never took anything at RISD)." She 
can be reached at bertlawrence(a) 


Valorie Avedisian writes: "This was a year of 
ch.inges. I've moved back 'home' after twelve 
years in California. I'm working as an internal 
training consultant with Oracle Corp. in Wal- 
tham, Mass. I'm hoping to get back in touch 
with old friends. Belinda, Robert, Debbie, 
Kris, and the rest of the class of '81, where are 
you?" Valorie can be reached at 109 Francis 
Ave., Mansfield, Mass. 02048. 

Carrie Brown published Rose's Garden 
(Algonquin Books), a novel. 

Joshua Hauser (see Susan Motamed 

Steve Lincoln and Tracy Davis (North- 
western '93) were married in San Francisco 
on Aug. 30. In attendance were Steve's brother, 
Robert '83, and their dad, Larry '50. Steve 
and Tracy live in San Francisco, where they 
both practice law. They can be reached at 1920 
Franklin St., #2, San Francisco 94109; 

Robbin Newman was named a partner 
in the Fort Lauderdale, otTice of Hol- 
land (Sc Knight. She practices in the areas of 
real estate development and finance, and rep- 
resents commercial mortgage lenders, finan- 
cial institutions, and borrowers. 


Roger Baumgarten transferred from the 
Pennsyhania department of corrections to the 
state's department of labor and industry, where 
he serves as press secretary. His wife, Barrett 
Sheridan, who was on maternity leave, 
returned to work as assistant consumer advo- 

6 8 • M.'VY/JUNO 1998 

cate in the Pennsylvania attorney general's 
oft'ice. Roger and Barrett are the parents of 
Thomas, born in September, and Alex, 3. and 
can be reached at 

Howard J. Castleman has become a 
shareholder of the Boston law firm Roche, 
Carens & DeGiacomo. Howard jomed the 
firm in June 1996. His practice involves repre- 
senting corporations and individuals in a 
variety of commercial disputes, with special 
emphasis on complex business and banking 
transactions, product liabihry, and intellectual 
property matters. Howard is president of 
the Brown Club of Boston. 

Shari J. Cohen (see Wendy Cohen 89) 

Resa Goldstein Eppler lives in Bethesda, 
Md., with her husband, David, and their sons, 
Ian, 7, Alex, 4, and Michael, 2. 

W. Ellen Fleischmann and Reid A. 
Kneeland, Los Angeles, announce the birth 
of Elijah Gabriel Kneeland, born Feb. 2 at 
home. Elijah joins his siblings Sarah Miranda, 
9, and Jeremiah Benjamin, 5. Ellen writes: 
"When I was pregnant and people would ask, 
'Is It a boy or a girl?' I'd reply, 'It's a human. 
I don't know any aliens. Don't believe Tlie 
Nalioihil EiupiirerV Well, turns out I was wrong. 
It was a groundhog. He's blond, has e.xtra fin- 
gers on each hand hke his sister did, and is 
incredibly cute. An objective fact. Just ask his 
daddy, of whom he's the exact image." The 
family can be reached at 

Betsy Young Harris (see Abbe Beth 
Robinson Young 'sS). 

David J. Levin published Riclumi \]jgtier. 
Fril: Livtg, iiiid the Nibeliiiigfii (Princeton Uni- 
versity Press). David is assistant professor of 
Germanic languages and literature at Colum- 
bia and editor of Opem tliwi<f;h Oilier Eyes. 

Laura Levitt, Philadelphia, pubUshed 
Jews iiHii Feminism: ITie Amhii'aleiit Seiucli 
for Heme (Routledge).The book critiques the 
ketiihbtih - the rabbinic construction ot the 
marriage contract — and also assails the "nar- 
row marital configuration of women's identi- 
ties." Laura is an assistant professor of rehgion 
at Temple University, where she also teaches 
in the women's studies department and is co- 
editor of Jiidiiisin Since Gender 

Scott Woodworth and his wife, Cathy, 
live in Sonoma, Calif, with their sons, Robby, 
3, and Bailey, 2. Scott runs his own advertising 
agency/ graphic design business out of his house 
and still plays rock 'n' roll. He can be reached 
at blackpig@best.coni. (Scott owns a black 
pig named Mason.) 


Cynthia Field is in the second year of a doc- 
toral program in clinical psychologv'. She sees 
patients at the William Alanson White Insti- 
tute in Manhattan. Cynthia writes:"! spend 
most weekends in Essex, Conn., where, with 
the help of my brother. Rich '78, I'm reno- 
vating an old Federal house, planning next 
year's garden, and counting the days until the 
boat's in the water. Visitors en route to the 

reunion are welcome." Cynthia can be reached 
at 41 W 68th St., #iA, New York City 10023. 

Ryne Johnson recently built a house in 
Dartmouth, Mass., where he lives with his 
wife. Donna, and their children, Alexandra 
and Zakare. "My dental practice. Discriminat- 
ing Dental Care, continues to grow, and I've 
become very busy. My golf game has really 
suffered," Ryne writes. He was promoted to 
major in the Rhode Island Air National Guard 
and heads its dental division. 

Suzy Kim, Decatur, Ga., and her hus- 
band, Walter Ott, announce the birth of 
Michael David Ott on Sept. 5. Michael joins 
his brother, Christopher, 3, "to form a very 
happy family," Suzy writes. Walter and Suzy 
still teach at Emory University'. 

William Poole VIII and Janet Levinger 
'81 moved to the Seattle area a year ago.WiU 
is working for Microsoft, and Janet is working 
part-time as a business/marketing consultant 
for nonprofit organizations. William, 7, is in 
the first grade, and Sarah is 3^:. 

Anne Vila and her husband, Steve Jacobs 
(M.l.T '81), announce the arrival of their 
first child, JuHa Suzanne, born in May 1997. In 
September, Anne began a yearlong research 
fellowship from the National Endowment for 
the Humanities. In December, she received 
the advance copies of her first book, Englight- 
enment and Palliology: Sensibility in the Literature 
and Medicine of Eighteenth-Century France 
(Johns Hopkins University Press). She is stiU 
teaching at the University of Wisconsin at 
Madison and can be reached at avila@macc. 

Luise A. Woelflein received a master's 
degree 111 environmental studies from Yale 
in 1996 and relocated to Anchorage, Alaska, 
with her husband. They started their own 
consulting firm and do science curriculum 
development and program planning for 
local and national conservation groups. 


Sally Belcher, North Potomac, Md., and her 
husband, Richard, announce the arrival ot 
Jill Heather, born Jan. 26. "Jill's sister, Mary, 5, 
IS happy to have a new baby doll," Sally writes. 

Robert J. Chiaradio Jr. is back in New 
England, "hopefully, for good," he writes. He 
lives in Monroe, Conn., with his wife, Lisa, 
and children Hannah, 5, and Jonathan, 3. He 
writes:"! am still with UST, working as one 
of five key account managers in the national 
accounts department and traveling throughout 
the country. See you at the reunion in '99." 
Robert can be reached at 7 Cherry Hill Cir., 
Monroe 06468; rchiaradio@usthq.coni. 

Marji Young Chimes (see Abbe Beth 
Robinson Young 's8). 

Tuneen Chisolm writes: "Where m the 
world IS Wendy Hoskins? If anyone knows, 
please tell her to call (215) 898-7153 or e-mail 
nie at Peace 
and blessings to everybody in the loop - you 
know who you are." 

Gregory J. Conklin was named a part- 
ner in the San Francisco office of the interna- 
tional law firm Gibson, Dunn & Crutcher. 
Gregory specializes in corporate law, with an 
emphasis on mergers and acquisitions, public 
and private securities offerings, lending, debt 
restructuring, and bankruptcy reorganizations. 

David Ehrhardt and Karen Mcintosh 
Ehrhardt (see William Ehrhardt '93). 

Jose Estabil and his wife, Janet 
Rickershauser '86, visited ("riends over the 
holidays: Vernon Rosario and Bob Tercero 
'86 in Los Angeles, Amanda Tepper 'Ss 
in New York, Jorge Abellas-Martin 82 and 
Elizabeth Seitz '82 in Boston, and Bill 
Holber "76 in San Francisco. "And we got 
back in time to chart the leaning of our 
retaining wall from El Niiio rains," Jose writes. 
Jose manages the technical business with Intel 
for his recently merged company. He can 
be reached at 

Suzanne Keen was awarded a 1997-98 
artist's fellowship in poetry by the Virginia 
Commission for the Arts. Suzanne has pub- 
lished ]'ictoriaii Renoualioiis oftlie Novel: Narra- 
tive Aiuicxes and tlie Boundaries of Representation 
and poems in the Aniliology of New England 
Writers, the English Journal, the Ohio Review. 
and the Rhode Island Review. She is an associ- 
ate professor of English at Washington and 
Lee University. 

Jayne Kurkjian-Siegel and Stephen 
Siegel '83 Sc.M., '83 Ph.D. announce the 
birth of Amanda Nicole on June 7. Jayne is a 
psychologist at the Providence V. A. Medical 
Center, and Stephen is president of FSJ Inc., a 
systems integration firm specializing in finan- 
cial services with offices in Boston and Tokyo. 
They can be reached at 


Debra R. Cohen (see Wendy Cohen '89). 
Barbara Detering (see David Hahn '78). 

Eve Colson and her husband, Jeff Stein, 
of Longmeadow, Mass., announce the birth 
of their daughter, Sarah Beth Stein, born Sept. 
12. Sarah joins her brother, Joe, 4, and sister, 
Rebekah, 6. The family can be reached at 

Robert Massing is a bartender at the 
Hollywood Athletic Club in Hollywood, 
Calif, and is working on a novel, tentatively 
titled Hunter's Came, about a gay hustler. 
He spends most of the rest of his time at the 
gym. He can be reached at robertmassing 

Karen Smith Catlin and Tim Catlin 
'86, Belmont, Cahf , announce the birth of 
Edward James Oakley Catlin, on Oct. 16. His 
big sister, Emma, is 2. Tim is vice president 
of research and development at Netcentives, 
and Karen is a program manager at Macro- 
media, both based in San Francisco. 

Barrie Weiner-Ross '88 M.D. and Duane 
L. Ross (Cornell '85, Howard '88 M.D.) 
announce the birth of their daughter, Tyler 
Jordan, born May 23, 1997. They are "happily 


living in New Mexico, where we have built 
an adobe-style house out of recycled car tires," 
Barrie reports. Barrie and Duane work in 
private medical practices in Albuquerque, and 
Barrie is also a consultant in pediatric rehabil- 
itation medicine for the University of New- 
Mexico Hospital. She can be reached at 

Donna Yaffe completed a post-doctoral 
fellowship in medical psychology at the Johns 
Hopkins School of Medicine and began 
working as a staff psychologist at Sinai Hospi- 
tal. She is also working in private practice 
with Life Care Health Association inTowson. 
Md. Donna recently married Kevin Davidson 
(SUNY-Stony Brook '83. Matyland '86 M.D.). 
Donna continues to play basketball and 
"always keeps up with how the Brown women 
hoopsters are faring." She can be reached at 
(410) 366-S233; (410) 6oi-433fi: dyatfe@sinai- 


Dorothea Riggs Dickerson and her hus- 
band, Bryan, are beginning three-year Men- 
nonite Central Committee assignments in 
Bangladesh. Bryan will be working as an 
engineering services leader and Dorothea as 
a project development adviser. Dorothea 
was selt-employed as a writer and editor m 

Blacksburg.Va. She and Bryan have two 
children, Darrah and PhiHp. 

Marco Garcia and Chantal 
BeckiTiann s son, Mateo Orion Garcia Beck- 
mann, 2, "already speaks some Spanish and 
plays soccer," Marco writes. "He also loves the 
beach and swimming." Marco and Chantal 
windsurt' off of Key Biscayne on the weekends. 
Marco is Latin America director for Atlas 
Telecom. The family lives in Davie, Fla. 

Deborah Garrison published her first 
collection of poems, .4 ll'oiking Girl Can't Win 
and Other Poems (Random House). Deborah's 
poems have appeared in Tlie A'eir Yorker, the 
Ncu'York Times, Slate, and Open City. Deborah 
is a senior editor at Tlie XewYcrker and lives 
ill New York City. 

Kevin Harrison is an assistant professor 
of geology and geophysics at Boston CoUege, 
where he continues his research on the global 
carbon cycle. He was recently included in 
Marquiss" Ulw's lHio in Science and Engineering 
iggS-gg.'When he is not studying the ramifi- 
cations of global change, he can be found ex- 
ploring greater Boston with BethAnn Zam- 
bella '84. Kevin can be reached at Geology 
&. Geophysics, Devlin Hall, Boston College. 
Chestnut Hill, Mass. 02167; (^i?) 5.S2-46.S3; 

Michael Julian (see Stella Hughes 
Julian '46) 

J.M. Landsberg '86 Sc.M. lives in 

Toulouse, France, and can be reached at jml(^ 

Robin Lumsdaine returned to Brown 
last tail as an associate professor in economics. 
"The first course I taught was a course I took 
as an undergrad here," Robin writes. "Despite 
still having my old lecture notes, I wrote new 
ones." She can be reached at Box B, Provi- 
dence 02912: robin_lumsdaine(5' 

Stephen C. McEvoy and Elizabeth A. 
Claffey '92 were married Sept. 13 in Falmouth 
Foreside, Maine. Kai U. Mazur served as an 
usher. Elizabeth is an associate in the Boston 
law firm Palmer and Dodge. Stephen is an 
assistant general counsel at Biogen in Cam- 
bridge, where the couple lives. 

Larry Primis (see Tara Brennan '92). 

JeffRodgers writes: "I've been the editor 
oi Acoustic Guitar, a monthly magazine for 
musicians, since its beginning in 1990, and 
we're in the process of expanding into CD 
compilations and various types of music-related 
books. I'm amazed at how many Brown grads 
have come up in our pages over the \ears - 
Mary Chapin Carpenter '81. Lisa Loeb 
'90, Duncan Sheik 92. and Catie Curtis 
'87. On the personal side, Ceciha Van 
Hollen 87 and I are expecting our second 
child in June, when our daughter, Lila, turns 
4." Jeff can be reached at 50 Elizabeth Way, 
San Rafael. Calif 94901: jeif(3' 

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7 ♦ MAY/J UNU 1998 

announce the birth of their first child. Iris 
Elena Kittleson. born Aug. 17 m Berkeley, Calif. 
Kristen is staying at home with Iris; she had 
been working as a watershed manager and 
fisheries biologist in the Santa Cruz Moun- 
tains. Kristen can be reached at 805 San 
Carlos Ave., Albany, Calif 94706; schroeder. 

Darryl Shrock and his wife, Pamela, 
announce the birth of Jonah David Shrock, 
born Dec. 12. Jonah can be viewed at http:// Darryl 
can be reached at 10616 Morning Field Dr., 
Potomac, Md. 20S17; (301) 610-7766; shrocks 


Part! Gerrol, class secretary, urges classmates 
to keep her posted on their news. She can be 
reached at 

Gwendolyn Coen Basinger writes: 
"After ten years m Chicago, I've finally 
accepted the fact that I'm a transplanted New 
Yorker. The first eight years in Chicago were 
spent at Leo Burnett and at the J.L. Kellogg 
Graduate School of Management. For the last 
two years, I've run business development at 
DDB Needham, where I manage our new 
business activities. In September my Chicago 
status became permanent when I married 
David Basinger, also an ad guy. We live in the 
city with his son. Josh, and our two cats, 
Maui and Lily." Gwendolyn can be reached 
at 3750 N. Lake Shore Dr., #3C, Chicago 

Paul Bechta '88 Sc.M. and Sarah Wolk 
Bechta '88, '92 M.D., Colorado Springs, 
Colo., announce the birth of James Wolk 
Bechta on Feb. 7. James's early visitors included 
Kristi Erdal "88, who also lives in Colorado 

Nitya Datwani Bharany writes: "We 
have moved back to our tainily home in 
Greater Kailash, New Delhi. Mahesh and I 
have our hands full with our sons, Maanit, 4, 
and Nirvaan, 15 months. We would love to 
hear from long-lost friends now that we have 
finally succumbed to the joys of e-mail. (Rafael 
and Andres, please write soon!)" Nitya can be 
reached at S-9 Greater Kailash, part i. New 
Delhi 110048 India; in. 

Jim Biek and his wife, Marie-Therese, 
are celebrating the second anniversary of their 
move to London trom New York. Their first 
child, Lucie Alba Lorraine, was born m July. 
Jim IS an associate in the architecture firm 
Munkenbeck &. Marshall and "will jump into 
the media with an installation at the Museum 
ot Modern Art in New York City this winter," 
he writes. "We bought a loft shell, which real- 
ized my first independent design on British 
soil. We know only too well that London is a 
convenient arrival point for international trav- 
elers. We've gotten quite good at entertaining 
drop-ms." Potential visitors can reach Jim at 
50-52 Great Eastern St., London EC2A 3EP 

Sally A. Campbell-Lee will complete 
her residency in anatomic and clinical pathol- 
ogy at the University of Maryland in June. 
She graduated from Albany Medical College 
in 1993 and completed her internship in 
internal medicine at the University of Pitts- 
burgh. Sally will begin her fellowship in blood 
banking and transfusion medicine at Johns 
Hopkins University Hospital. In April 1997, 
Sally married Charles D. Lee (Coppin State 
'87), a chemist who works for the U.S. 
Department of the Treasury in the bureau of 
engraving and printing. Lisa Wade '88 was 
maid of honor. Sally can be reached at 1714 
Park Ave., #214, Baltimore 21217. 

Maria Oliveira Evonsion and her hus- 
band, Gary, of Alpharetta, Ga., announce the 
arrival of Megan Lurdes Evonsion. She was 
born Dec. 30 and joins her brother, Alexander 

Leigh Hare Griswold and Andy Gris- 
wold announce the birth of their first child, 
Madison Leigh, born Sept. 6. Leigh is taking a 
yearlong leave of absence from her doctoral 
program in clinical psychology. Andy, recently 
promoted to first vice president at Merrill 
Lynch, is working fewer hours in order to 
spend time with Madison. 

Lisa Jaycox recently moved to Santa 
Monica, Calif, to work as an associate behav- 
ioral scientist at RAND. Lisa writes,"! am a 
clinical psychologist, happily married to 
Andrew Morral (Swarthmore '85), and look- 
ing for classmates in the L.A. area." She can be 
reached at (310) 393-04ii; 

Andrew Krantz writes: "December was 
a great month. My law office moved into a 
grand Victorian building off the Navesink 
River in Red Bank, NJ.; Laura and 1 signed a 
contract to buy a new home; and, best of all, 
our son Jonathan v,'as born on the 21st. We 're 
all doing great." Andrew can be reached until 
fall at 39 Tack Ct.,Tinton Falls, NJ. 07753; 
(732) 922-3771. 

Sarah Lum writes; "After five years 
working at Brown on a two-way video link I 
have taken a yearlong leave to study at that 
lesser-known school up North. I'm earning 
an M.P.A. with a concentration in corporate 
and international philanthropy." Sarah can be 
reached at 367 Harvard St., #2, Cambridge, 
Mass. 0213S; lumsara@, 

Gilberto Maymi and Hildren Francis 
have been busy raising their daughters, Natalia 
Celeste, 5,Viviana del Mar, 4, and Paola 
Antonia, 2. Gilberto is practicing law at a local 
firm, and Hildren has taken a leave from 
lawyering and is considering doing something 
"more creative and fun." They can be reached 
at King's Court 77, PH-2, San Juan, Puerto 
Rico 0091 1 ; (787) 727-5846. 


Minn. She can be reached via e-mail at fisher. 

Andrew Friedman (see Erik Pitchal '94). 

Elisa R. Griego received an M.F.A. from 
the Yale School of Drama. She married Paul 
Marottolo on Aug. 9 and designed and made 
her own gown and veil. Her maid ot honor 
was Paula Abdalas. Also in the ceremony 
was David Griego '86, who served as flute 
soloist and usher. Elisa is the technical director 
of the theater department at the Westminster 
School in Simsbury, Conn., where she and 
Paul live. 

Anne Crocker Hefter and Scott Hefter 
announce the birth of their second child, 
Ted, on Nov. 23. They have moved to Wash- 
ington, DC, and can be reached at 6900 
Loch Lomond Dr., Bethesda, Md. 20817; (301) 

Lisa Lebow Kaufman and Mark Kauf- 
man '87, Baltimore, announce the birth of 
Caroline Ellis Kaufman, on Oct. 21. Caroline 
was delivereci by Dr. Alan Tapper '61 and is 
the granddaughter of Larry Kaufman '52. 
Mark and Lisa are enjoying parenthood and 
are looking forward to showing off their new 
addition at Lisa's loth reunion. 

Angela Mitchell, Oak Park, 111., 
coauthored Uluil the Blues h AH About: Black 
Women Overcoming Stress and Depression 
(Perigee). The book examines depression 
among African-American wcjnien. 

Gene Sims and Christine Talleyrand 
Sims announce the birth of their first child, 
Gena Yvonne Sims, born June ig in Gainesville, 
Fla.The family can be reached at 6425 NW 
29th Terr., Gainesville 32653. 

Jennifer "Wayne-Doppke is vice presi- 
dent of on-line research and development for 
COR Healthcare Resources, a publishing and 
research firm. She is also executive editor 
oi the monthly magazine Medicine on the Net, 
author of the annual Healthcare Guide to the 
Internet, and a frequent presenter at national 
conterences on Internet/intranet use in med- 
ical settings. She telecommutes fulltime 
from her home in upstate New York, which 
she shares with a husband, two dogs, and two 
cats. She can be reached 


Jennifer Fisher completed her Ph.D. m child 
psychology at Arizona State in 1996 and is 
now in her second year of a postdoctoral fel- 
lowship at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, 

Sarah Arndt and Steve Piazza (Harvard '90) 
announce the arrival of Benjamin Serlin on 
Oct. 12. "Ben is an energefic baby who loves 
to 'talk' and hates to sleep, so his parents 
are happy, but tired," Sarah reports. Sarah was 
awarded a doctorate in psychology from 
Northwestern in August, just in time to be a 
tiiU-time mom. Steve is nearing the comple- 
tion of his doctorate in mechanical engineer- 
ing from Northwestern. Sarah can be reached 
at 1904 W. Morse Ave., #2, Chicago 60626; 
(773) 761-4957. 

Rodd W. Bender joined Manko, Gold 
is: Katcher, an environmental law firm with 
otTices in Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Previ- 
ously Rodd was a law clerk for the Hon. 


AMY NYE '90 

Up, Up, and Away 

A traveler's yen for Walkman 
tapes spawns a booming airport 

Ask Amy Nye about the inspiration behind 
AltiTunes, her chain of airport-based music 
stores, and she readily admits, "I copied the 
idea." After a summer of traveling in Europe 
just before entering Brown, Nye found 
herself in London's Heathrow Airport, "com- 
pletely sick of the tapes I'd brought along 
for my Walkman," she says. She bought 
an overpriced tape from an airport music 
store and wondered, "Why don't they 
have music stores in airports at home? And 
why is this store so expensive?" 

Nearly a decade later, in the fall of 1994, 
Nye had completed a financial-analyst train- 
ing program at Goldman Sachs and was 
thinking about starting her own business. 
She remembered that moment in Heathrow 

and began mulling ideas for an airport music 
store. Desperate for leads, Nye dialed 411 
and got the number for the New York Port 
Authority. Twenty phone calls later, after 
being turned down by both Kennedy and 
Newark airports, Nye found a sympathetic 
manager at LaCuardia. "I couldn't believe he 
gave me a shot," Nye says. "Reaching one 
person who's open-minded - that's all it takes." 
At LaCuardia, Nye made her pitch: she 

needed only 200 square feet - enough room 
for a freestanding kiosk. "With kiosks, you 
often get better locations," says Nye. 
"You can plop one down right in the middle 
of traffic. They're much less expensive to 
build, and people who walk by have an 
incentive to stop. It's hard to get people with 
luggage into a store. It's too cramped." 

Her simple idea - offering reasonably 
priced music to weary travelers - has taken 
off. AltiTunes stores, which sell everything 
from CDs to video games to PalmPilots, can 
now be found in the major East Coast air- 
ports. Average sales of $1,500 per square 
foot earned Nye's company a cool $2 million 
in 1997. 

Nye plans to expand into other parts of 
the United States, Canada, and Mexico, and 
this summer, an AltiTunes outpost will open 
in New York's Grand Central Station. By 
year's end, Nye estimates twenty-eight Alti- 
Tunes stores will be up and running. Not bad 
for an idea inspired by a teenage quest for 
new tapes. - Torri Still 

William T. Moore Jr. of the U. S. District 
Court, southern district of Georgia. He lives 
with his wife, Cari, a public relations and 
special-events manager, in Bryn Mawr, Pa. 

Ken Boyer and his wife, Mar>' (Ohio 
State 'yi J. D.), announce the birth of then- 
first son, Graham Devitt Boyer. born Nov. 20. 
Ken is an assistant professor and teaches oper- 
ations management m the M.B.A. program 
at DePaul Universifv'. He taught a three-week 
course m Hong Kong m February. Ken can 
be reached at 236 S. 6th Ave., LaGrange, 
lU. (10525; (708) 482-8352; kboyer@wppost. 

Rex Chiu '94 M.D. finished his internal- 
medicine residency at New York Hospital- 
Cornell Medical C^enter and started his "first 
real job since graduation" with the Stanford 
Medical Group in California. Rex is on the 
faculty of Stanford Medical School and is 
"having fun seeing patients and teaching 
medical students and residents," he writes. He 
and his wife, Madeline Hsiung (Syracuse '91; 
C'olunibia '95 M.A..'9() M.Ed.), and their 
I -year-old son.Wayland. have moved into a 
new home. They can be reached ,it 8 Tulip 
Ln., Palo Alto 94303; rexchiu(a; 

Wendy L. Cohen married Michael 
Uram (Dartmouth '90' List July (>. Present at 
the wedding were Wendy s sisters, Shari '82 

and Debra "85. Wendy and Mike live in New 
York Cits', where Wendy teaches health at the 
Ramaz School and Mike is a second-year 
student at Mount Sinai Medical School. They 
can be reached at 210 E. 68th St., #50, New 
York. N.Y. ioo2i.This note was sent in 
by Wendy's father, Theodore P. Cohen '58 

Brad Frishberg and his wite, Amy, 
announce the birth ot fraternal twins, lacob 
and Zoe, on Jan. 23. The family lives in Tokyo, 
where Brad works for J.P. Morgan. They can be 
reached at frishberg_bradford(a! 

Sarah Dorsey and Paul KoUmer were 
married on Dec. 6 at their home. Brunonian 
guests included Sarah's father. Frank C. 
Dorsey '56. Paul and Sarah now share the last 
name "Kollmer-Dorsey" and can be reached 
at 1918 17th St., NWWashington, D.C. 20009; 
(202) 986-3177. 

Christina Manetti. a doctoral candidate 
111 history at the University of'Washingtoii. 
received a 1997-98 Fulbright scholarship and 
is doing research in Warsaw, Poland. Christina 
can be reached at 

Susan Motanied and her husband. 
Matthew Hauser. ha\e been living 111 Brook- 
lyn tor three years. They were married in 
Providence m October 1995. with many 
Brown alumni present. Their wedding parts- 
included Mark Hauser '77, Joshua Hauser 

'8i,John Tiedeman '87, Rich Ziminer- 
nian 90, Ned Sherman 90, and Susan 

Lofgren. Susan Motamed writes: "On August 
5, our son, Benjamin, was born. He is a very 
fun and beautiful Uttle person! I have been on 
hiatus from work as a producer since July." 
Susan codirected rss'o episodes of the History 
Channel's documentary series Tlic Fiflics."h 
was so much fun to run around the country 
interviewing people who had been a part ot 
such an intriguing and conflicted decade. Last 
year I produced and directed all voices and 
live-action video for the first season of Nick- 
elodeon's preschool series Blue's Clues, ind 
I've also been freelance producing for a Los 
Angeles-based commercial editing company. 
Matt is still working as a sound designer at 
Big Foote Music. He does sound design for 
national TV commercials. We are moving to a 
bigger apartment in Park Slope this spring. " 
Susan and Matt can be reached at 323 Steriing 
PI., Brooklyn, N.Y. 11238; smotamed@aol. 
com; mhauser67(g; 

Molly Shapiro. Seattle, published her 
first book of fiction. Eicriiiil City (Helicon 
Nine Editions), a collection of stories. In 1997. 
Molly received the Willa Gather Fiction 
Prize for the collection. 

72 • MAY /JUNE lyyS 



Teodoro Alban received his M.B.A. at the 
Escuehi Superior Pohtecnica del Literal in 
Guayaquil, Ecuador, in May 1994. He was 
named national credit manager for Corpo- 
racion Fmanciera Nacional in March 1997. 
Teodoro married Carolyn Garrett Lollard on 
Nov. S m Houston. They live m Quito, 

Alexa Albert and Andy Sack 89 are 
living 111 Brooklme, Mass. Andy writes: "Lite 
IS good. Abuzz (my company) has tripled in 
size and narrowed its focus. I still find time to 
enjoy Alexa, yoga, and swimming. I am look- 
ing to recruit other high-tech and business 
Brown alumni. Please contact me at asack 
(a'" AJe.xa writes: "Almost an M.D. 
now. But first I will take a yearlong hiatus 
to write a book about Nevada's brothel indus- 
try." Alexa can be reached at aalbert@,student. 

Michele Baker graduated from Yale 
Medical School last May and is doing a resi- 
dencv 111 psychiatry with the Harvard Long- 
wood program. She can be reached at 

Laurelyn E. Douglas is a litigation asso- 
ciate in Shearman &' Sterling's New York office. 
She graduated fromVanderbilt's School ot 
Law last May. Laurelyn sends congratulatory 
wishes to Lucia Arteta de Perez and her 
husband, Bernardo, on the birth of their 
daughter, and to Pamela Tatum on her wed- 
ding. She would love to hear from Tanuja 
Desai when Tanuja returns from India. A tan 
of the Carnegie Hall Jazz Band, Laurelyn can 
be found at most of their home concerts or 
reached via e-mail at ldouglas@shear 

Dawn Goldsmith married Warren 
Firschein in an outdoor ceremony in Sandy 
Spring, Md., on Aug. 31 . Louise Davidson- 
Schinich. Marilla Ochis '!J9, and Jill Sands 
Curtis participated in the ceremony. Dawn 
and Warren met in Warsaw, Poland, in 1992. 
"Warren likes photography and travehng, and 
has a great smile and a warm heart," Dawn 
writes. "We spent our honeymoon in Tahiti, 
putting our scuba-diving lessons to good use, 
(We were certified in a quarry in Pennsylva- 
nia. After the South Pacific, we will never 
dive in cold water again.) Then we returned 
to the D.C. area and bought a house."Warren 
IS a law^'er in the common carrier bureau 
of the Federal Communications Commission, 
and Dawn is a lawyer in the office of chief 
counsel of the Food and Drug Administra- 
tion, Friends can contact them at 9513 Wads- 
worth Dr., Bethesda, Md. 20817; warsaw 
(^" Kenili Ho, this means you! And 
Manuel. I lost you again!" 

Dennis Karjala is living m Hong Kong 
and heading up the international sales division 
tor Intcx. He can be reached at (852) 2311- 
7998; dkarjalafahotmail.coin. 

Adam Komisarof is hoping to connect 
with old friends living in Japan. He will be 
studying Japanese at Keio University for one 
year on a Rotary Foundation ambassadorial 

Reading Up: The Ann Arbor News prof[\ed 
Pamela Bogart '91, program director for 
Washtenaw Literacy, an agency that pro- 
vides reading tutors for 150 adults in Wash- 
tenaw County, Michigan. Literacy programs 
are important today, Bogart told the paper, 
because many kids are falling through the 
cracks of the public school system. 

scholarship. He can be contacted through his 
[apanese in-laws at 1-8-28 Nakakonoike-cho, 
Higashiosaka-shi, Osaka 578 J.ipan. 

Robert M. Pollock writes: "After work- 
ing for SIX years with community develop- 
ment companies, 1 have started my own real 
estate company. Uptown Homes, specializing 
in Harlem and Manhattan's Upper West Side. 
I operate as a buyer's broker - helping clients 
locate, finance, and negotiate the best price 
tor a townhouse, condo, or co-op — and as a 
listing broker. I am especially interested in the 
historical preservation of Harlem's architec- 
tural gems." Robert can be reached at 767 
Beck St., Bronx, N.Y. 10455; (718) 617-S640; 

Mark Popofsky finished a six-month 
stint as a special assistant U.S. attorney in 
Alexandria, Va. Mark is now serving as senior 
counsel in the antitrust division of the U.S. 
Department of Justice in Washington, D.C, 
and working on the United States' case against 
Microsoft. He can be reached at poper@ 


Julie Berman is engaged to Hal Kautman, 
and they are planning a June wedding. Julie 
recently received an M.B.A. from UCLA's 
Anderson School ot Management. She is a 
financial analyst for Target Stores in Min- 
neapolis and can be reached at 13 14 Marquette 
Ave., #1402, Minneapolis 55403; bermanj@ 

Eden Parker Grace and husband, Jim, 
announce the birth otjesse Frederick Grace, 
born Dec. 13. Jesse joins Isaiah, 19 months. 
Eden can be reached at 17 Rock Hill St., 
Medford, Mass. 02155; (7**') 39.S-8827; eden 

Bryan Hsuan graduated from Colum- 
bia's film school with an M.F.A. in October. 
In 1992 he served as Martin Scorsese's first 
student intern at Cappa Productions. He has 
been preparing six feature scripts, which he 
was planning to market at the end of January. 
He says hello to his former colleagues at the 
Colliyc Hill hnlvpciiih'iil and to his friends 
from Brown. 

Angela Kyle, who finished business and 
journalism school at Columbia, is working in 
London as a business development manager 


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for Turner Broadcasting's European entertain- 
ment networks. Loads of Brown friends have 
dropped in for short and long visits, she 
reports, including Cynthia Henry. Christina 
Eng, James Harris '92. Sunah Park '90, 
and Lorine Pendleton. Angela would love 
to hear from London-based classmates and 
those who are passing through. She can be 
reached at angelak36o(a,' 

Pete Kopke Jr. (see Tom Moses "sS). 

Sayles Livingston lives in Little Comp- 
ton, R.L, with her husband, David Wilson, 
and their son, Benjamin Sayles Wilson, born 
April 9, 1997. Sayles has a floral design busi- 
ness and hopes that anyone who needs help 
with wedding flowers will call her at (401) 
635-4709; saylesliv@aol.coin. 

Jenny Safiran received a Ph.D. in brain 
and cognitive sciences from the Universitv' of 
Rochester. She is now an assistant professor 
in psychology at the University of Wisconsin 
at Madison. Jen is engaged to a classmate from 
Rochester, Seth Pollak, who joins Jen as a 
new faculty member in psycholog\- at UW. 
She is pleased to report that UW lives up to 
Its reputation as the Brown ot the Midwest. 
Jen can be reached at the Department of Psy- 
chology', UW-Madison, Madison. Wis. 53706; 

(60S) 262-994-- 

Emre Yilmaz writes: "I've been doing 
puppetry (or is it computer animation?) at 
Protozoa in San Francisco for a few years. We 
speciaUze in what 1 call digital puppetry, 
though it's also called motion capture or per- 
formance animation. We do work forTV 
(recently we built a virtual Bill Clinton for 
MTV) and for the Internet. We also build 
puppets for other companies. I'm basically the 
digital equivalent of a puppet builder and 
puppeteer - it's half artistic and half technical, 
requiring skills from drawing to programming. 
I also travel to give talks about our work or 
do demos. It's great fun to be working with 
puppets, even intangible digital ones." E-mail 
Emre at, or go to 

Juliana Young married Daniel O'Laugh- 
lin (Minnesota '97 M.D.) on June 7 in Min- 
neapolis. The couple met in medical school at 
the University of Minnesota. Rebecca Wood 
served as a bridesmaid. Juli can be reached 
at 3717 Orchard Ave. N., Robbinsdale, Minn. 
55422: younOl 


Tara Brennan and Craig Primis '91 were 
married at the Westin Hotel 111 Providence 
on Aug. 31. Many Brown alumni attended the 
Labor Day weekend festivities, including 
Mary Martins Brennan '79 A.M. (mother 
of the bride) and Nelson Martins "67 (uncle 
of the bride). Bridesmaids included Nel 
Eland Ellwein nul Deborah List; the best 
man was Larry Primis 'S6 (brother of the 
groom): and ushers included Eric Golden 
'90, Seth Kalvert '91, Matt Hofl'man '91, 
Glenn Salzman '92 and Jeremy Roth- 

fleisch '92. Tara and Craig are lawyers in pri- 
vate practice and live in Washington, D.C. 
They can be reached at tara_primis@ 
shawpittman .com . 

Jesselyn Brown and her husband, Dan 
Radack (Massachusetts '87, Johns Hopkins 
'91 M.A.), announce the birth of Jacob Aidan 
Radack, born Feb. 5. "He was apparently 
conceived at my hve-year reunion," Jessehn 
writes. Labor was induced by Janet Schaflfel 
'76, "79 M.D. After graduating from Yale Law 
School in 1995, Jesselyn joined the attorney 
general's honor program as a trial attorney 
at the U.S. Department of Justice. She can be 
reached at 2939 Van Ness St., NW, #448, 
Washington, D.C. 20008. 

Elizabeth A. Claffey (see Stephen C. 
McEvoy '86). 

Chris D'Arcy "96 M.D. and Victoria 
G. Reyes '96 M.D. were married in New 
York Ciry- on Oct. 25. Brunomans in atten- 
dence included best man Dave Gordon. "We 
ate a lot, drank a lot, broke out the stogies, 
and danced the night away," the couple writes. 
"We want to thank everyone for attending 
and making it such a great day. And to the 
water polo team boys, thanks for coming!" 
Chris and Victoria are doing residencies at the 
University of Washington in Seattle in pri- 
mary care/internal medicine and patholog)-, 
respectively. They can be reached at 

Matt Dunne was reelected to a third 
term as a Vermont state representative. He 
published his first article, "The Politics of 
Generation X, " in Witioihil Cii'k Rci'icw. He 
was hired as marketing director of Logic Asso- 
ciates, a software company providing business 
management systems to the printing industry. 
Matt has been touring nationally to speak 
on politics and Generation X, and arts policy 
and economic development. He chaired the 
search for Vermont's first film commissioner 
and owns Cabin Fever Productions. He 
can be reached at RRi, Box 186, Hartland, 
Vt. 0504S; iii.ittd(a' 

Thomas Giolinas writes: "Stefanos 
Pesmazoglou is living in Greece, taking his 
first steps toward becoming a ship owner, 
while Matilda Dourida is a rising star in 
Greece's advertising industry. Kyros Filippou 
IS running business as usual, albeit with some 
help from Dimitrios Kontarinis '9i.Dim- 
itrios Katsaounis is trading currencies m the 
Greek financial markets, while Kostis Niko- 
laides is living and working in New York 
Ciry. Fortunately, we all manage to see each 
other quite often." 

Joseph Lemon Jr. writes: "After jeal- 
ously listening to all my Brown classmates tell 
tales of their lives in graduate school for the 
past five years. I finally have been able to take 
a year off from managing the Abbey Hotel 
(Bettendorf, Iowa) to earn a master's degree at 
Oxford. Student lite is every bit as great as I 
remembered! Fortunately, Eric Streisand has 
been able to drop by on C'ambridge/Oxford 
recruiting trips. All others are welcome." 
Joseph can be reached at Magdalen C'ollege, 

High St., Oxford. OXi 4AU. England; Joseph. 

Mee Moua is an associate with Leonard, 
Street & Deinard, a Minneapolis law firm. 
Mee, who will practice in the public law 
group, is a 1997 graduate of the University of 
Minnesota's law school. 

Simon Park married Laney Batavick 
(Canisius '93) on Oct. 11 in Washington, D.C. 
Simon and Laney are living in Takoma Park, 
Md., and can be reached at spark@comsysmgt. 

Robin Peduzzi and JeflT Sumner will 
be married Sept. s in Carlisle, Pa. Renee 
Schneider, Marc Osofsky, and Mark Man- 
cuso will be 111 the wedding part); and James 
Schroeder will be the best man. Robin and 
Jeff can be reached at 752 Pacheco St., San 
Francisco 941 16. 

Matthew R. Piepenburg. Cambridge, 
Mass., published Tiim- ami llic Maiden (Lost 
Coast Press), a novel. The book was a finalist 
in the 1996 First Novel contest. 

Barak D. Richman has returned fVom a 
year in Vietnam and is now in a doctoral pro- 
gram in economics at the University of Cali- 
fornia at Berkeley. He can be reached at 
(510) 704-0921: 

Aldina 'Vazao and David Kennedy 
announce the birth of Dylan Jerommo 
Kennedy, born Jan. 20. Aldina can be reached 
at 2400 i6th St., NW, #532, Washington, 
D.C. 20009; (202) 588-8907; 


A scholarship fund for minority' students has 
been est.iblished m memory of Iran Bach- 
man and Ji Suk Lee. who died in 1991 and 
1997 respectively. Jennifer Chapin and a 
number of alumni were very close to Iran and 
Ji Suk, and it is through their eftbrts and those 
of Jennifer's family that the fund has been 
established. Anyone who wishes to contribute 
may send a check payable to Brown Univer- 
sity (with a note that it is for the Bachman/ 
Lee Scholarship Fund) to Margaret Broaddus, 
Brown University Development Office, Box 
1893, Providence, R.L 02912. Jennifer can be 
reached at (212) 581-3929. 

Stacy Benjamin will be married on 
May 25. "Unfortunately, It's the same weekend 
as my 5th reunion," Stacy writes, "but I'll 
make it to the ioth. I'm finishing my master's 
degree at the Annenberg School for Commu- 
nication at the University of Pennsylvania, 
and I will be heading to Scotland (where my 
fiance is from) after the wedding and gradua- 
tion." Until June, Stacy can be reached at 

Amy Torok Carey worked 111 Tanzania 
as a volunteer teacher at an elementary school 
after she graduated. Upon her return to the 
United States, she entered Duke's M.A.T. pro- 
gram: during that time she married Ryan 
Carey (Colorado '93), a fellow graduate stu- 
dent at Duke. They gmduated from L^uke 111 
the summer of 1996 and have been working 

74 ♦ MAY/JUNE 1998 

.It .1 small, coed boarding school -Verde Valley 
School in Sedona. Ariz. - for the last two years. 
Ryan is an anthropolog)' and history teacher 
and Amy is the associate director of admis- 
sions and director of college counseling. She 
also is playing second flute in the Flagstaft 
Symphony. Amy can be reached at 35 ii Verde 
Valley School Rd., Sedona 86351. 

William Ehrhardt married Jessica Bartell 
(Yale '94) on |an. 3 at the Unitarian Meeting 
House m Madison. Wis. William's brother, Jon 
'96, was best man. Other alumni in attendance 
included William's brother, David 'N4, and 
David's wife, Karen Mcintosh Ehrhardt 
'84.WiUiam and Jessica are third-year medical 
students at the University' of Wisconsin and 
are planning to do their residencies in internal 
medicine. They are settled back in Madison 
after a honeymoon in Costa Rica and can be 
reached at 1321 Jenifer St., Madison 53703; 

Silas Glisson and Carla McCracken 
(Roosevelt '96) were married on Sept. 20, 
1996, in Chicago. They reside in Chicago, 
where Silas is a freelance translator for con- 
sulting firms and Carla works as a literary edi- 
tor. Both are "extremely ecstatic and very 
much m love," reports Silas. They are finaliz- 
ing the visa process tor migration to Australia, 
where they hope to move this year. In addi- 
tion, Silas received his M.A. in humanities 
from California State University at Dominguez 
Hills in May 1997. He can be reached at 

Scott Hanley lives in San Diego. He 
took the Cahfornia bar exam in February and 
IS working on ESPN's X Games. 

Robert E. Herrmann completed a mas- 
ter's of environmental management at Duke 
University's Nicholas School of the Environ- 
ment. Robert writes: "While at Duke, I 
roomed for two years with Jeremy Hushon. 
who was attending Duke's School ot Law, 
and got a few chances to see Hale Pulsifer 
'92, who is still touring the nation with Angry 
Salad. Also at Duke during my tenure were 
Jon Cosco, Chad Nelsen '92, and Liz 
DeMattia '94. 1 am now based m Southamp- 
ton, N.Y., where I work as a coastal manage- 
ment speciahst for En-Consultants Inc., an 
environmental consulting firm." Robert can 
be reached at encon( 

D. Robert Jordan is 111 his first year of 
an internal-medicine residency at Cooper 
Hospital-University Medical Center m Cam- 
den, NJ. He graduated from the Umversiry 
of Medicine and Dentistry of New Jersey- 
Robert Wood Johnson Medical School last 
May. He can be reached at 401 Cooper Land- 
ing Rd., #622, Cherry Hill, NJ. 08002; 
(609) 667-2108; 

Dave Lindstrom writes: "I am thrilled 
to be engaged to the darling Maura Callahan 
of Birmingham, Mich., and can't wait for our 
August 29 wedding. 1 was best man in the 
festive wedding ot Ed Mikolay '94, who wed 
Ellen Talaga of Michigan C'lty, Ind. More 
wedding bells for Steve Chasse and Julie 
Hug on March 2 1 . Good friends Phil Martin 

and Jennifer Carr have recently announced 
their engagements, 1 spent New Year's Eve 
with Mike Glascott, Scott Camp, and 
Adatn Langston in Chicago. All are healthy 
and happy. I speak often to Lin Gorman, 
who loves her work as a teacher. I am in 
sales for 3Com Corp. in New York City and 
can be reached at (212) 760-3947; david_ 

Nancy Lublin was named by Ms. maga- 
zine one of "21 for 21st: Leaders for the Next 
Century." Nancy is the author o{ Paiuioni's 
Box: Feminism Confronts Reproductive Technology 
(Rowman & Littlefield), which addresses 
abortion rights and reproductive technology. 
She is also the founder of Dress for Success 
New York, a nonprofit organization that pro- 
vides work-related clothing to low-income 

Toby Reynolds nio\ed t'rom Chicago to 
Indianapolis to join the intellectual-property 
and trade -regulation department of Barnes 
&Thornburg. He invites all members of the 
Phi Kappa Psi class of 1990 to contact him 
regarding Reunion Weekend. Toby can be 
reached at 6718 Mill Creek Cir., #1136, Indi- 
anapolis 46214; (317) 347-1016 (home); (317) 
231-7425 (work); 


Rick Cusick moved to San Francisco in Sep- 
tember and IS doing environmental consulting 
with a small Oakland firm. He hangs out with 
Isaac Peace Hazard and Aaron Presbrey 
"93. "I'm currently tracking the effects ot 
El Nino on the Bay Area club scene," Rick 
writes. He can be reached at 127 Dore Alley, 
San Francisco 94103; 

Bryan Davis is living in New York, 
where he and his business partner launched a 
new line of cigarette papers called Chills. He 
opened his first bar, Bahi (274 3rd Ave.), with 
several friends from Brown. He is also market- 
ing two friends' new line of men's couture 
suits called Baumler Und Ascher-NewYork. 
Bryan lives with Bryan Paulk '95, James 
Stanzler and his brother, Dan '96, and Rich 
Garza. Bryan writes, "Charlie Franc remains 
my spiritual guide, with whom I communi- 
cate daily thorough telepathy, and Dan 
Leppo is my personal stylist." Bryan can be 
reached at 

Laura Gardner left New York City and 
MSNBC last June. She has a "great job" writ- 
ing the evening news tor Boston's NBC sta- 
tion. Laura spends warm-weather weekends 
sea kayaking on Cape Cod. March, she 
traveled in Spam with Josh Kanner and 
Elisabeth Fieldstone Kanner '95, who live 
111 Madrid. 

Adam Marlin is a reporter m Washing- 
ton, D.C."1 get hassled by the likes of Dusty 
Horwitt. Hal Levey, and Dave Phemister, 
among others," Adam writes. "It's a good 
group to get hassled by, though." Adam sends 
his congratulations to Manny and Krissy on 
their engagement. 

Emily Constable Pershing and her 
husband, Andy '95, Ithaca, N.Y., announce 
the birth of their first child, Harrison Robert 
Pershing, on Dec. 16. "Everyone is happy 
and healthy and enjoying some time off from 
school," Emily writes. Emily will complete 
her D.V.M. this month, and Andy is planning 
to complete his Ph.D. in 2000. Emily can be 
reached at 

Erik Pitchal is finishing law school at 
Yale and "looking forward to easing into (or 
IS It diving blindly into?) the real world soon," 
he writes. "I had a great job last summer with 
the New Hampshire public defender. I han- 
dled several juvenile cases, loved it, and hope 
to end up doing juvenile criminal defense 
work. I was lucky enough to have Andrew 
Friedman '88 as one of my supervisors." 
This summer, after taking the bar exam, Erik 
wiU start a one-year clerkship with U.S. Dis- 
trict Judge Robert Patterson in New York 
Ciry. Erik is planning to live in Park Slope, 
Brooklyn, and would like to prevail upon 
any Brown alums in that neighborhood to 
send him promising apartment leads - one- 
bedrooms or shares. Erik can be reached 
at 70 Howe St., #400, New Haven, Conn. 
06511; (203) 624-5628; 


Pete Bartle was promoted to the rank of first 
lieutenant in the U.S. Marine Corps during 
Operation Eager Mace, a training exercise in 
the Kuwaiti desert. He is serving as a rifle pla- 
toon commander. Pete's unit is deployed as 
part of the 13th Marine expeditionary unit to 
the Persian Gulf. 

Brendan Lynch, a third-year student at 
Harvard Lav/ School, will have a sixty-page 
paper pubhshed in the summer edition of the 
Harvard Civil Rights and Civil Liberties Law 
Review. The paper is titled "Welfare Reform, 
Unemployment Compensation, and the 
Social Wage: Dismantling Family Support 
Under Wisconsin's W-2 Workfare Plan." Bren- 
dan was awarded a grant from the Indepen- 
dence Foundation of Philadelphia, where he 
will begin working in September on Medic- 
aid abuses by HMOs. 

Monazza Qazi Mahmud writes: "Hello 
to all my friends. I often miss all of you. My 
four years at Brown are like a dream now. I 
received my M.Sc. fiom the London School 
of Economics and am now married and 
working as an internal auditor at SheU Pak- 
istan. Please get in touch." Monazza can be 
reached at 58, Street 14, Phase 5, Dha, Karachi, 


Virginia Batson received a degree in studio 
art (pnntniakmg) froniTulane University last 
May. Virginia writes: "I have returned to the 
performing arts high school 1 attended. Wal- 
nut HiU School for the Arts in Natick, Mass.. 


where I am assistant to the dean of students. 
I am dancmg regularly, doing printmaking at 
the Museum School m Boston, and writing. 
I'm gettmg married this summer to Peter 
W. Grant, whom 1 met while working on a 
Brown dance production in 1992-93." 

Kara Caldarone married Brent John- 
ston '93 on June 14, 1997, in Newport, R.I. 
The ceremony and reception took place at 
RoseclitT Mansion. The wedding party 
included bridesmaids Farley Collins. Sally 
Taylor, Liz Alt, and Jessica Grunwald, and 
groomsmen John Melby '93, Gus Koven 
'93, Andy Hull '93,J.C. Raby '94, and Gar- 
rett Palm '94. Brent and Kara live in Man- 
hattan, where Brent works at Societe 
Generale as an assistant vice president in spe- 
cialized structure finance and Kara works at 
Goldman Sachs in institutional sales in equi- 
ties. They can he reached at (212) 874-2862. 

Kemaal Esmail is designing offshore 
oil facihties for a structural-engineering firm 
in Houston. He can be reached at via e-mail 

Gilberto Sustache writes: "'Hello and 
best wishes to all our friends from Brown. 
Hanya El-Sheshtawy Sustache '97 and I 
are still loving our newlywed year and are 
having a great time. She's teaching ninth- grade 
science in the Worcester (Mass.) Public 
Schools, and I'm in my second year at UMass 
Medical School." Gilberto can be reached at 

David Wadler can be reached at djw@ (The e-mail address that appeared in 
the January/February B,-l,\/ was incorrect.) 

Joy Whalen and Paul Fichiera are 
engaged and plan an Oct. 10 wedding in New- 
Hampshire. They are living m Phoenix and 
"basking in the sunshine," Paul writes. Joy is 
working toward her elementary teaching cer- 
tificate and is an aide at Carson Junior High 
School in Mesa, Ariz. Paul is on leave from 
Andersen Consulting and "chasing his entre- 
preneurial dreams." They can be reached at 




Hannah Burton has settled in Portland, 
Oreg., where she works with an AmeriCorps 
program focusing on education and environ- 
mental issues. Hannah is living with Lyssa 
Mudd "96, who has returned from a year of 
study and travel in India. "We both think 
fondly of Providence, particularly on these 
rainy days." Hannah writes. 

John Churchward is in Nev/port Beach, 
Calif,, for the year and wants to meet up with 
friends on the West Coast. He can be reached 

Amy Cook is serving in the Peace Corps 
in C^had, Africa. She can be reached at PCV 
Amy Cook, Corps de la Paix Americain, B.P, 
1182, N'Djamena, Chad, Central Africa, via 

Lieko Earle is a Peace Corps volunteer 
in Tanzania, where she te.iches secondary 

Risky Business: In a February New York 
Times article marking the fiftieth anniver- 
sary of the first Kinsey report on human 
sexuality, Marshall Miller '97 criticized the 
American approach to sex education. Sex 
is discussed in terms of risk, he told the 
Times, but "imagine teaching driving in the 
same way. You'd be told never to drive 
because you could be Injured and go to the 
hospital." Miller concentrated in sexuality 
and society at Brown. 

school physics and is learning to speak Swahili. 
"I hve in a forest surrounded by banana, 
mango, and pap.iya trees - a little bit of a cul- 
ture shock from Providence, but 1 love it. If 
anyone wants to see Lake Victoria or to cUmb 
Kilimanjaro, come visit," Lieko writes. She 
can be reached at U.S. Peace Corps, Box 9123, 
DSM, Tanzania. 

Catherine lonata is serving in the Peace 
Corps in Turkmenistan, where she teaches 
English to high school students. She can be 
reached at U.S. Peace Corps/Turkmenistan, 
PO. Box 258, Krugozor, Central Post Office, 
Ashgabat 744000,Turkmenistan. (Tliis note was 
submitted by Catherine's sister Victoria '95.) 


Malcolm Freiberg '47 A.M.. '51 Ph.D. (see 
Sarah Freiberg Ellison '80). 

Richard H. Reis '57 A.M., '62 Ph.D., 
Marion, Mass., is retired from teaching Eng- 
lish at the University of Massachusetts- 
Dartmouth. He has written a memoir about 
the political maneuvering that rocked UMass- 
Dartmouth (then Southeastern Massachusetts 
University) in the 1960s and 1970s. When 
he's not golfing, gardening, or cooking, Dick 
works on two writing projects: a cookbook 
and an Arthurian novel. 

Carole Gannon Potter "62 M.A.T. 
(see '61). 

James H. Herzog '63 Ph.D. served on 
various multinational and joint service staffs as 
a political/military expert. He retired from 
the U.S. Navy in 1972 as a highly decorated 
captain and joined the international staff in 
the defense plans and policy division of NATO 
headquarters. He retired from NATO in 19S0. 
From 1982 until last July, he taught in the 
European division of the University of Mary- 
land, He offered special courses and seminars 
on US.-US.S.R. and NATO-Warsaw Pact 
relations and contemporary problems in the 
Middle East. James lives in Alexandria, Va., 
with his wife, Michele, who recently retired 
troni the international stall of NATO Brussels. 

Daniel R. Schwarz '6s A.M., '68 Ph.D. 
published Rccoiilii'iinnf; Miniciiiisiii: l:.\i'loi\iliivis 

in the Relatioiisliip hetweai Moiicni An and Mod- 
ern Liicratnrc (St. Martin's Press). Daniel is a 
professor of English at Cornell University. He 
has written several other books and is editor 
of Tiic Dead and Tlie Secret Sharer and co- 
editor o{ Narrative and Culture. 

John E. Finnerty '68 A.M. (see '65). 

Anne Bratton Fairbanks '69 M.A.T. 
completed a Ph.D. m English at the Univer- 
sity of Nebraska at Lincoln in May 1997. 

Nancy Goldsmith Leiphart '70 A.M., 
Winston-Salem, N.C., is the assistant dean 
of general studies in the college division of 
the North Carolina School of the Arts. Nancy 
writes, "We are a cluster of performing arts 
conservatories teaching students dance, design 
and production, drama, filmmaking, and music 
at the high school, college, and graduate levels." 

Gilbert T. Sewall '70 A.M. is editor of 
Tlie Eiglilies:A Reader (Addison- Wesley), a 
collection of writing about the decade's poli- 
tics, economics, and culture ("Anthologies 
Noted," Books, January/February). Gilbert 
is a cultural historian and the president of the 
Center for Education Studies in New York 
City, He is also the director of the American 
Textbook Council, a research organization 
that conducts independent reviews and studies 
of history curricula and textbooks. 

Jack Henke '73 M.A.T. has been teach- 
ing social studies at Brookfleld Central School, 
Brookfield, N.Y., for twenty-four years. Jack 
spends his spare time coaching basketball, writ- 
ing local history, gardening, and fishing. He 
can be reached at Box 175. Brookfield 133 14. 

Eleanor Levie '73 M.A.T, Doylestown, 
Pa., writes: "I am an author, editor, and, now, 
a book packager in needlework and crafts. My 
book Country Living Country Paint )usl came 
out, and Creations in Miniature is due out in 
September. I advocate for civil rights and 
women's issues as state public affairs chair of 
the National Council of Jewish Women. Carl 
Harrington "73 M.A.T, and I are having 
our own 2Sth reunion celebration, plus a i6th 
wedding anniversary. Carl is in charge of mar- 
keting for K'NEX, the second-largest and 
fastest-growing construction toy company. 
Our 11 -year-old son, Sam, happens to be an 
expert construction toy builder and a great 
business asset to his dad. This year, Carl won 
both his fantasy baseball and fantasy basket- 
ball league games. No couch potatoes here, 
though: Carl got us all to join a gym recently. 
With luck, we should be around for our 
soth reunion." The family can be reached at 

William Gaulin '74 M.A.T. is a principal 
at Synectics Inc., in Cambridge, Mass. 

Peter S.Thompson '75 Ph.D. published 
Littcrature inoderiw du monde francoplione: une 
antiiohgie (National Textbook Co.). 

Jaiinee Wriston Colbert '76 A. M. is 
the winner of the Willi Gather Fiction Prize 
for her second collection of short stories, 
Clind'tng t\ic God Ticc. Jainiee lives in Rock- 
port, Maine, where she is an instructor of 
writing and communications at the Universir\' 
of Maine at Augusta. She also teaches creative 

76 ♦ MAY/J UNH 1998 

writing at the state prison and is a faculty 
associate at the Stonecoast Writers Confer- 
ence. Her short stories have been published 
in a variety of literary journals. Her short 
fiction collection Sex, Salvalion, and theAtilo- 
iiiflbile won the Zephyr Publishing Prize in 
Fiction in 1993. 

David Felder '76 A.M. hves in London 
with his wite. Louise, and their children, 
Miriam, 9. and Naomi, 3. He is head of inter- 
national fi.xed income for I^resdner RCM 
Global Investors, part of the Dresdner Bank 

Tom Couser '77 Ph.D. published Reaw- 
ering Bodies: Illness, Disability, and Life Writing 
(University of Wisconsin Press), an analysis oi 
the relationship beuveen physical and cultural 
dimensions ofiUness and disabilirs'. Tom is an 
English professor at Hofstra Universin,'. 

Jwo Pan '78 Sc.M., '82 Ph,D, was named 
a fellow of the American Society of Mechani- 
cal Engineers, an honor conferred on a mem- 
ber of the society who has at least ten years of 
active engineering practice and has made sig- 
nificant contributions to the field. Jwo is an 
associate professor of mechanical engineering 
at the Universirs' of Michigan. 

Mary Martins Brennan '79 A.M. (see 
Tara Brennan '92). 

Joseph McLaren '80 Ph.D. published 
Langstoii Hughes: Folk Dramatist in the Protest 
Tradition, ig2i-ig4J (Greenwood Publishing 
Group). A specialist in African- American lit- 
erature and African literature in English, 
Joseph has written numerous articles on liter- 
ary and cultural topics. His writings have 
appeared in Masterpieces of African-Ainerican 
Literature and T7if Africaii American Encyclopedia, 
He is an associate professor of English at 
Hofstra University. 

Ann-Louise Sticklor Shapiro "80 
Ph.D. (see Michael D. Shapiro 62). 

Bill Ferraro '83 A.M., '91 Ph.D. married 
Laura Hellmann, a public health nutritionist, 
on Nov. 29 in Carbondale. 111. Bill is a docu- 
mentary editor with the Ulysses S. Grant 
Association at Southern Illinois University at 
Carbondale (SlUC).Todd Gernes '87 A.M., 
'92 Ph.D. and Thorn Mitchell Si A.M., '84 
Ph.D. attended the wedding. Todd coordinates 
the upper-level writing program in the Gayle 
Morris Sweetland Writing Center and is a 
member ot the department of English language 
and literature at the Umversir^' of Michigan. 
Thom, who lives around the corner from 
Bill, IS an associate professor of economics at 
SIUC. E-mail Bill at bferraro(&, 
Todd at tsgernes(g',, and Thom at 

Stephen Siegel '83 Sc.M., '85 Ph.D. (see 
Jayne Kurkjian-Siegel '84). 

Patricia McDonnell '85 A.M. '91 Ph.D. 
IS the author ot the catalog tor "Marsden 
Hardey: American Modern," an exhibition 
that will be on tour nationally through 2000, 
Patricia is a curator at the University of 
Minnesota's Weisman Art Museum. 

J.M. Landsberg "86 Sc.M. (see '86). 

Paul Bechta '88 Sc.M. (see '87). 

Kang Sun '88 Ph.D. joined Alhed Signal 
Inc. as a general manager of imaging devices. 
Prior to joining Allied Signal, he spent six 
years at Arkwright Inc. as a vice president of 
technology. He can be reached at (973) 455- 
6201 ; kang.sun(a), 

Manojit Sarkar '92 Sc.M. has two chil- 
dren, Arjun, 2, and Natasha, born in January, 
Manojit works in Silicon 'Valley, where he 
writes computer software for managing tele- 
communications networks. His wife, Pallabi, 
IS pursuing biotechnology. 


Pat Myskowski '75 MD (see Deborah 
Lisker '72). 

Janet Schaffel '79 MD (see Jesselyn 
Brown '92). 

Keith Fishbein '80 MD. (see Seltna 
Gold Fishbein '48). 

Martin F. Carr '81 M.D (see "78). 

'William J. Long '82 M.D. is practicing 
cardiology m Baton Rouge, La., while "look- 
ing to move out west." He has two children. 
Max, I, and Liam, 3. 

Barrie Weiner-Ross 88 M.D. (see '85). 

Sarah Wolk Bechta 92 M.D. (see Paul 
Bechta 87) 

Rex Chiu '94 M.D. (see '89). 

Chris D'Arcy '96 M.D. (see '92). 

Victoria G. Reyes '96 M.D. (see Chris 
D'Arcy '92). 


Preston'W. Lewis '17 A.M., St. Louis; Sep- 
tember. He retired in 1964 as president of Ely 
&; Walker, a division of Burlington Industries. 
He is survived by his wife, Edith, 705 S. La 
Clede Station Rd., #355, St. Louis 63119. 

Stanley H. Mason '19. Providence: Jan. 9. 
He was a trust officer for Rhode Island Hos- 
pital Trust for forty-five years. He was a mem- 
ber and officer of the Providence Athenaeum 
and a board member and treasurer of the 
Providence Animal Rescue League. He is sur- 
vived by a nephew. C. 'Warren Bubier "36. 

Alice Desmond Schmieder '23, Middle- 
town, R.I.;Jan. 4. A class agent for nineteen 
years, she served as president and treasurer ot 
her class and as chair of the 1983 reunion 
fund. During the 1950s, she and her husband 
kept the Brown mascot, a bear cub, at their 
home. She held the cub during Brown foot- 
ball games. 

Louis C. Horvath '2s, Canton, Conn.; Dec. 
30. A retired colonel in the U.S. Air Force, he 
served in New Guinea during World War 1. He 
also was retired from Southern New England 
Telephone Co., where he had been a personnel 
manager for more than forty years. He is 

survived by three daughters, including Joyce 
Webber. 229 Brickett Hill Rd.. Pembroke. 
N.H. 03275. 

'W Roland Harrall '26. Providence; Feb. 3. 
He was a bond salesman and broker before 
retiring in 1986. He is survived by a son and 
two daughters. 

Helen F. Horton '28. Bristol, R.I. ;Jan. 17. 
She was a teacher in Bristol for thirty-five 
years, retiring in 1964. She was a vice presi- 
dent of the Bristol Historical and Preservation 
Society and cofounder of the Junior Histori- 
cal Society. 

H. Charles Kwasha '28, Miami; May 4. 
1997. He was a partner in the Kwasha Lipton 
Co., an actuarial consulting firm in North 
Miami Beach. Survivors include his wife. 
Sylvia, iiiii Biscayne Blvd.. Miami 33i6i;a 
cousin. Abraham Lisker '33; and a niece, 
Carolyn Berman Grinberg '82. 

Irving Newton (Novogroski) '28, Spring- 
field, Va.; 1997. Survivors include his wife, 
Rena; a son, Murray, 9213 Beachway Ln.. 
Springfield 22153; and two cousins. Arthur 
Novogroski '31 and Allen Novogroski '33. 

Mary 'V. Mulligan '29. Warwick. R.I.; Dec. 25. 

Lloyd M. 'Wilcox Sr. '29.Terryville. Conn; 
Feb 5. A resident ofTerryville since 1937. 
he was a general practitioner and company 
physician for the former Eagle Lock Co. 
He later practiced .is an ophthalmologist in 
Terryville and Bristol (Conn.) until retiring 
ten years ago. He is survived by his wife. 
Madge, 244 Main St., Terryville 06786; two 
sons, including Lloyd Jr. '63; and a daughter. 

Mary Jessamine Daggett Gist '30 A.M., 
Marianna, Ark.; Oct. 5. 

Alfred N. Henschel '30. Groton. Conn.; 
Feb. I. He was a textile chemist for Milliken 
Textile in Exeter. N.H.. before retiring. A vol- 
unteer firefighter, he helped pioneer the 
use of detergents to extinguish fires. During 
World War II. he served with the Georgia 
Civil Air Patrol and worked on fabrics used 
by the armed forces. He is survived by three 
sons, including John. 322 Hillsdale Rd.,West 
Kingston, R.I. 02892. 

Hester Harrington Stow "30, Nashville, 
Tenn.; Dec. 10. Survivors include her hus- 
band. H. Lloyd, II Burton HiUs Blvd., #152, 
NashviUe 37215. 

Anne Carr Booth '31, Worcester. Mass.; 
Dec. 28. She was a teacher in Worcester until 
retiring in 1974. She is survived by two sons, 
including Albert '64,61 Post Kennel Rd., Far 
Hiils, N J. 07931. 

Irving Beck '32, Providence;Jan. 25. He was 
a physician and consultant in internal medi- 


cine and, later, the senior medical consultant 
to the Rhode Island Medical Center. A U.S. 
Army veteran ot World War II, he served as a 
captain in the medical corps in the China- 
Burma-India theater. In 1962, he became 
medical chief at Miriam and Lying-In (now 
Women & Infants) hospitals and a consultant 
to Rhode Island and Roger Williams hospi- 
tals. He was president of the Providence 
Medical Association, governor (for Rhode 
Island) of the American College of Physicians, 
and president of the Rhode Island Diabetes 
Association. He also taught a course in med- 
ical history at Brown and served as a trustee 
of the Brown and Harvard medical school 
libraries. He was awarded the Brown Medical 
School's W.W. Keen Award for distinguished 
service to the community. He is survived 
by his wife, Edith, 700 Smith St., Providence 
02yo8: three daughters; and two brothers, 
Maurice "39 and Aaron '42. 

Donald E. Ewing '32, Cleveland; Dec. 7. A 
retired employee of the Harris Corp., he was 
an otFicer in the U.S. Navy during World War 
II. He is survived by a nephew, Robert 
Elliott '67; and a niece. 

Helen Whitcomb Sizer '32 Sc.M, Bedford, 
Mass.; Nov. 21 . Sur\'ivors include her husband, 
Irwin, S2 Dartmouth Ct., Bedford 01730. 

William E. Devine '33, New Haven, Conn.; 
Sept. 21, 1993. 

James S.Tuttle '33, St. Augustine, Fla.; April 
1997. He was an assistant manager at S.S. 
Kresge Co., a salesman at the Packard Motor 
Car Co., a representative for the Dearborn 
National Insurance Co., and the founder ot 
Weber Oil Co. Survivors include his wife, 
Sarah, 44 Willow Dr., St. Augustine 32084. 

William B. Flack '34,Towson, Md.; Oct. 31, 
1996. He was a retired vice president at Gau- 
dreau Inc. Architects in Baltimore. He is sur- 
vived by a daughter, Beth Lux, 7 Allen Rd., 
Bow, N.H. 03304. 

Marguerite L. Melville '34, Morristown, 
N.J.; Dec. 25. She was a self-employed artist 
and sculptor. 

David Viger '34, Grosse Pointe Farms, 
Mich.; August. He was a retired vice president 
of Guest Keen Nettle Folds and a former 
president of the Woodlee Corp. in Detroit. 
Survivors include his wife, Mary Louise, }<,(> 
Moross Rd., Grosse Pointe Farms 48236. 

Sidney B. Callis '35, Hyannis, Mass.; Dec. 11. 
The Barnstable County (Mass.) medical 
examiner since the early 1950s, he also was a 
consulting psychiatrist for the Veterans Adminis- 
tration, the U.S. Air Force, the U.S. District 
and Superior courts, and the Barnstable House 
of Correction. He was the police surgeon and 
school physician for the town of Wellfleet, 
Mass. He is survived by his wife.Jeanie, PCX 

Box 757, Wellfleet 02667; and a daughter. 

Harriet Streeter Gray '35, Norway, Maine; 
Dec. 20. With her late husband, a minister, she 
served churches in Maine, Michigan, Con- 
necticut, Massachusetts, Florida, and Rhode 
Island until his death in 1982. She remarried 
in 1985, was ordained, and became the minis- 
ter of visitation at the First Congregational 
Church of South Paris, Maine. She is survived 
by her husband, Kenneth, 4 Magnolia Dr., 
Norway 0426S; two sons, including Daniel 
C. Tuttle Jr. ' sy; three ciaughters; and a sister, 
Mary Streeter Rose "43. 

John E. Deignan '36, Warwick, R.I.; Feb. 10. 
Before retiring in 1973, he was a service tech- 
nician for the former Petroleum Heat and 
Power in Providence. He is survived by a son, 
a daughter, a stepson, and a stepdaughter. 

Chester E. Hogan 37, Cave Creek, Ariz.; 
Dec. 12. He was the retired director of the Los 
Angeles Zoo. He is survived by a daughter, 
Sharyn Wallace, 36680 N. Orilla Oeste, Cave 
Creek 85331. 

George H. Springer '38, '40 Sc.M., Dayton, 
Ohio; Nov. 24. He was a geology protessor 
and department chair at the University ot 
Dayton. Survivors include his wife, Dolores, 
2373 Shelterwood Dr., Dayton 45409. 

Marian Sigler Wessell '38 A.M., Naples, 
Fla.; Nov. 30. Survivors include her husband. 
Nils '35 Sc.M. 

Joseph C. Blessing '39, Millbrook, Ala.; Dec. 
17. He was a retired account representative tor 
Underwriters' Laboratories in Northbrook, 
111. A U.S. Air Force veteran ofWorldWar II, 
he was a tirst heutenant bombardier-navigator 
and flew tltty-seven missions out of Port 
Moresby, Papua New Guinea. He is survived 
by his wife, Lorraine, 81 Pine Ct., Millbrook 
36054; a son; and a daughter. 

Gardner S. Gould '39, Brunswick, Maine; 
Jan. 2. A veteran of the U.S. Navy, he was a 
retired plant engineer. He is survived by his 
wite, Martha, P.O. Box 508, Brunswick 0401 ! ; 
a son; and a claughter. 

Barbara Golburgh Moses "39, Potomac, 
Md.;June 27. She is survived by a son, Paul, 3 
Imperial Promenade, #445, Santa Ana, Calif 
92707; and a daughter. 

Albert P. Bedell '40, Northampton, Mass.; 
Dec. 7, 1996. He was a retired insurance bro- 
ker for Johnson & Higgins in New York Ciry. 
Survivors include his wife. Marguerite, 45 
Washington Ave., Northampton OT060. 

Bertratn H. Buxton Jr. '40, Naples, Fla.; 
|an. 12. The tormer cliiet ot statf at Women 
& Infants Hospital m Providence, he was a 
founding member of the committee that 
spearheaded the creation ot Brown's medic. il 

school in 1974. A professor emeritus at Brown 
and the University of Tennessee, Memphis, he 
was the director ot the division ot gynecology 
at Roger Williams Hospital, served on the 
board of Brown's medical school, and was 
a member of the editorial board of the Rhode 
IsLiihI Medical Journal. He also served as presi- 
dent of the Providence Medical Association, 
on the Family Planning Council of Rhode 
Island, on the executive committee of the 
Rhode Island Cancer Control Board, and on 
the board of Planned Parenthood of Rhode 
Island and Tennessee. He is survived by his 
wife, Lois Lindblom Buxton '43, 5809 Rat- 
desnake-Hammock Rd., #108, Augusta Woods, 
Naples, Fla. 34113; four sons, includingjohn 
'69 and Bradford '75; and three daughters. 

Robert T. Engles '40, Providence; Dec. 30. 
After serving as a lieutenant in the U.S. Navy 
during World War II, he worked at radio sta- 
tion WTOP 111 Washington, DC. With a busi- 
ness partner, he bought WHIM in Providence; 
WTRY in Troy N. Y. ; and WORC in Worces- 
ter, Mass. He sold the stations in 1957 and 
bought the Church Travel Agency, which he 
managed until retiring in 1988. He was vice 
president of the Providence Preservation 
Society, a director of the Rhode Island Blue 
Cross, and a director of Lying-in (now Women 
&• Infants) Hospital. He served as class marshal 
at several Commencements and received the 
Alumni Service Award in 1994. He is survived 
by his wife, Helen Gill Engles '39, 40 Bene- 
fit St., Providence 02904; three sons; and 
three daughters. 

Thomas E. Autzen '41, Pordand, Oreg.; 
Nov. 29. The man for whom the University ot 
Oregon football stadium is named, he was 
president of the Autzen Foundation, which 
distributes grants to human-services, educa- 
tional, and arts foundations. He was chairman 
of the University of Oregon Foundation 
and served on the boards of the Japanese Gar- 
den Society, the High Desert Museum, the 
Columbia River Maritime Museum, Pacific 
Crest Outward Bound, and Good Samaritan 
Hospital. He is survived by two sisters and 
a brother. 

Everett J. Daniels '41, Los Angeles; Aug. 9. 
He was a mathematician/engineer and a 
long-range planner in the aerospace industry. 
Later, he was a stockbroker and certified 
financial planner. He is survived by his wife, 
Helen, 261S Greenvalley Rd., Los Angeles 
90046; a son; and a daughter. 

Winthrop C. Fanning '41, Pittsburgh; Dec. 
27, A U.S. Air Force veteran of World War II, 
he worked as a foreign correspondent in 
Europe after the war. In 1951, he joined the 
staff of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, -where he 
was an entertainment editor and columnist 
until retiring in 1983. 

H. Eliot Rice '41. Warwick, R.I. ;Jan. 10. A 
partner in the Providence law tinn Rice DoLin 

78 ♦ MAY/ I UNH I yyS 

& Kershaw, he was treasurer of his class from 
1961 to 1991. He also was a member of the 
board and executive committee of Hamilton 
House. He is survived by his wife, Margery, 13 
Cedar Pond Dr., #2, Warwick 02S86; a son; 
two daughters; and a sister, Elisabeth Rice 
Smart '37. 

Howard B. Lyman '42, Cincinnati; Dec. 20. 
He was a retired psychology professor at the 
University' of Cincinnati and one of the first 
clinical psychologists to be licensed m Ohio. 
He was a nationally recognized specialist in 
psychological testing and interpreting test 
scores, and he authored Test Saves :iniat They 
Mean. He also was among the first psycholo- 
gists to counsel divorced and separated people, 
a subject he tackled in Single Again in 1971. 
He was president of the Ohio Psychological 
Association and editor of its magazine. He is 
survived by a son, rwo daughters, three step- 
sons, and a stepdaughter. 

Marian Dahms Holland '43. Lakewood, 
Colo.; Nov. II. She is survived by two nieces, 
Judith A. Hunt 'fio and Carol Hunt 
Epple V)y 

Thclla Price Groves '44,Youngstown, 
Ohio; Aug. 7. She is survived by rvvo daugh- 
ters, Anne Bramlett and Susan Grove, 3941 
Loma Vista Dr.,Youngstown 44511. 

Mary-Lucille Lafond Bonte '45, Stuart, 
Fla.; Dec. 17. She is survived by her husband, 
Albert, 200 SE Four Winds Dr., #211, Stuart 
34996; a son; and two daughters. 

Herschel Weil "45 Sc.M., "48 Ph.D., Ann 
Arbor. Mich.; fan. 3, 1997. He was a professor 
of electrical and computer engineering at the 
University ot Michigan. Survivors include 
his wife, Bonnie Lichterman Weil "48, 1601 
Arbordale St. .Ann Arbor 48103. 

David G. Hassman '46, Dover, Mass.; Dec. 
17. He was a division manager for Wild & 
Stevens Inc., graphic-arts supphers in Newton 
Highlands, Mass. Survivors include his wife, 
Jacqueline, P.O. Box 688, Dover 02030. 

John Heneghan '48, Washington, DC; Sept. 
2y. He was a lawyer with the U.S. Securities 
and Exchange Commission. He is survived by 
a friend, John Gearrity, 2835 Hurst Terr., NW. 
Washington. DC. 2001C). 

Berton E Hill Jr. '48. South Yarmouth. 
Mass.; Jan. 17. A U.S. Army veteran ofWorld 
War 11, he was executive secretary of the 
National Academy of Science's Institute of 
Laboratory Animal Resources. He was hon- 
ored by the American College of Laboratory 
Animal Medicine for his work in establishing 
standards for laboratory-animal medicine 
and care. As vice president ot Charles River 
Breeding Laboratories, he introduced modern 
techniques of animal husbandry and germ- 
free breeding. He was the editor of Charles 

River Digest and a grants administrator and 
adviser on funded research for Brown's sci- 
ence faculry. He is survived by his wife, Leti- 
tia, 76 Country Club Dr.. South Yarmouth 
02(164; a son, Richard '73; and a daughter. 

Robert J. Meredith Jr. '48, Rochester, NY; 
Dec. 29. 

Walter E MuUen '48 A.M. .Warwick, R.I.; 
Jan. I. He was a history professor at Provi- 
dence College. Survivors include his wife, 

Brayton H. White '48. North Kingstown, 
R.I.; Feb. y. A U.S. Army Air Forces veteran of 
World War II, he was a self-employed insur- 
ance adjuster for thirty-five years before retir- 
ing in 1985. He also was the owner of the 
former Bob White Shop on Block Island. He 
is survived by his wife, Virginia, 50 Paula Dr.. 
North Kingstown 02852; three sons; and a 

Arthur Bauman '49, Baltimore; January. He 
was an assistant professor at Sonoma (Calif.) 
State College. Survivors include his son, John 
'81, 9367 Airdrome St., Los Angeles 90035. 

C. William Wharton Jr. "49, Stonington. 
Conn.; Dec. 15. He was an antiques dealer 
speciahzing in eighteenth-century American 
furniture and decorative arts. He is survived 
by his wife, Emily, P.O. Box 349, Stonington 
06378; and two sons. 

Edith Lund Baillie '50, Cheshire, Conn.; 
Dec. 18. A nurse in the U.S. Navy during 
World War II, she was a personnel manager at 
Blue Cross/Blue Shield until her retirement. 
She IS survived by her husband, David '50, 
8Ss S. Brookvale Rd., Cheshire 06410; a son, 
Donald '70; and a daughter. 

Edmund J.Winterbottom Jr. '50, Ripon, 
Wis.; Jan. 22. After retiring from Speed 
Queen's international sales department, he 
was an adult-hteracy volunteer, a high school 
tutor, and a substitute teacher. Active in cho- 
ruses and in the Christian Science church, 
he presented the Brown Book Award each 
year to a senior at Ripon High School. He is 
survived by his wife, Sarah, 703 Woodside 
Rd., Ripon 54971; a son; and four daughters. 

Gerald L Connis '51, Providence; Feb. 8. 
Hf worked for the U.S. Joint Publications 
Research Service, which services the foreign- 
language translation needs ot the tederal 
government. He is survived by his mother. 

David N. Freedman '51, Rockville, Md.; 
Dec. 3. of cancer. He was senior vice president 
of corporate facihties for Giant Food Inc., 
and president of the company's subsidiary. 
Giant Construction Co. During his tenure at 
Giant, he oversaw planning, design, and con- 
struction of more than ninery CJiant and 
Super G supermarkets, three pharmacies, a 

gourmet food store, and nineteen shopping 
centers. He served on the University of Mary- 
land's construction-engineering and manage- 
ment advisory board, the Prince George 
Community College construction-education 
board, and the board of directors of the Giant 
Food Federal Credit Union. He is survived 
by his wife, Barbara, 7205 Old Gate Rd., 
RockviUe 20852; and two sons. 

Lois Black '53, London; Jan. 9. She was a 
clinical psychologist in Syracuse, N.Y., and at 
the time of her death was vacationing in Lon- 
don, where her husband was on sabbancal. 
Survivors include her husband. Karl Barth, 31 
St. Luke's Rd.. #5, London Wii iDB. U.K.; 
and four sons, including Paul D. Henning '81. 

M. Elizabeth Stella '54, Scarsdale, NY; 
Aug. 21, 1995. She is survived by a niece, 
Michele Gribko, 279 Charles Ave., Massape- 
qua Park, N.Y 11 762. 

Edward W. Wetmore '58, Old Sayhrook, 
C"onn.;July 16. He was a general manager at 
the Internarional Silver Co. in Meriden, Conn. 
Survivors include his wife, Eleanor, 13 Otter 
Cove Dr., Old Saybrook 06475. 

Denise Guerin Oschger '63, Park Ridge, 
Ill.;June 14. She is survived by her husband, 
Raymond, 311 Root St., Park Ridge 60068; 
and two daughters. 

Ackley E. Blocher '66, Cleveland; Decem- 
ber, of cancer. He was a consultant for his 
own firm, ABB & Associates, in Fairview 
Park, Ohio. 

William C. Sallee '67 M. A. T, Lexington. 
Ky.; June 1996. Survivors include his wife.Jonel, 
2H72 Runnymeade Wiy, Lexington 40503. 

Gari B. Marks '69. Providence; Feb. i. He is 
survived by a brother. 

Elliott L. Dunn '89, Canton, Mass.; Dec. 25. 
A philosophy concentrator at Brown, he 
continued his studies at Yale. From 1995 until 
shortly before his death, he resided in Berlin, 
where he pursued a research project on 
Schopenhauer and Nietzsche at Humboldt 
University. A memorial fund has been estab- 
lished at Brown in his memory. Donations 
can be mailed to the Elliott Louis Dunn Mem- 
orial Fund, Office of Development, Brown 
University, Box 1893, Providence, R.I. 02912. 
He is survived hy his parents. Dr. and Mrs. 
Allan Dunn, 2 Algonquin Rd., Canton 02021. 

Kenneth P.James '89 A.M., Butfalo, N.Y; 
Nov. 6, of cancer. Survivors include his niece, 
Vanessa Faison, 215 Cornwell Dr., Bear, 
Del. 19701. 

Kenneth D. Floyd '00 RUE. Providence; 
Jan. 12, of cancer. He is survived by his par- 
ents, Mr. and Mrs. Dexter E. Floyd, 3315 Quail 
Ridge Rd., Kmston, N.C. 28501 . Ov 





On July 7, 1966, while undergoing 
basic training in the U.S. Army 
Medical Corps at Fort Sam Houston, 
Texas, I visited the Alamo. The heroism 
and patriotism on display reminded of my 
childhood in the early 1940s, when I 
marched proudly around our house to the 
strains of a popular World War II fight 
song whose refrain went, "Remember 
Pearl Harbor as we did the Alamo." See- 
ing the 100 or so names ot national heroes 
on the memorial there - James Bowie, 
William Travis, Davy Crockett - should 
have been a source of pride to a young 
American being processed as a Medical 
Corps captain. But on the last plaque, the 
final entry read; John - Negro Boy. 

That ruined my visit. Was John really a 
boy, or was he a Negro man who died as 
did the others, fighting for his country? 
Didn't he have a last name, like the oth- 
ers? Was his first name really John, or was 
it just known that there was "a nigra up 
there who got kilt so we'll just call him 
John"? As an African American, should 1 
be thankful that they bothered to men- 
tion him at all? 

Years later, I visited the Vietnam 
Memorial. In the intervening time, I had 
spent a harrowing year in Vietnam as a 
military surgeon. I had struggled not to 
drown in a river of blood, which was 
flowing by me and sometimes over me at 
a rapid and powerful rate. My role was 
that of the commanding officer of an 
orthopedic MASH-type specialty unit 
attached to the 85th Evac Hospital in Qui 
Nhon.Vietnam. 1 worked at a kind of epi- 
center ot the human realities of the war. 
I treated a twenty-year-old infantryman 
who had stepped on a land mine, which 
blew off his left foot and riddled his leg 
with shrapnel; I wanted to grab President 
Johnson by the elbow and show him that 
terrified, bloodied young man, writhing 
in pain. 

I treated a young combat trooper 
named Bryan who had lost both his legs 
ail the way up to just below his hip joints. 
We liad to take him back to surgery sev- 
eral times to control the bleeding from his 
stumps; After seeing linn ,1 couple of times 




in the hospital, on the second day i went 
to his bedside to check on his condition 
and needs. I will never forget the question 
he asked me; "Well, Doc, I know I lost 
both my legs, but did I keep my balls?" I 
had not expected the question so soon. 
After a long pause, I told him that with 
hormone therapy he would maintain his 
manly qualities, but he could never father 

All the dead included on the Vietnam 
Memorial have first and last names. But a 
disproporrionate number of those names 
- more than 20 percent - belong to 
African Americans. The year I spent in 
Vietnam treating black, white, and yellow 
soldiers made me more aware of myself as 
a black, an African American, a minority, 
a member ot a subordinated group. Have 
we made progress during the century 
between the Alamo and the fall of Saigon? 
Yes, but not enough. There have been pos- 
itive changes, but in our nation, people ot 
color remain very much disadvantaged. 

The wall at the Vietnam Memorial 
starts out very low, only one line of names 
deep, then rises to a steep peak in the 
middle - 131 names from top to bottom. 
It trails off to the end, where it is again 
only one line deep. Up and down, like the 
cycle of our hope. There is a time of 
peace, then we escalate to the point of all- 
out war, and then, when it becomes intol- 
erable, there is a graciual decrescendo of 
violence. We grieve and build our memo- 
rials. Our hopes rise again - hopes for 
preventing wars and maintaining peace. 
Thev escalate, then decline. Probably the 

memorial builders will remain in business 
for the foreseeable future. 

Decades away from the days of sitting 
sadly at the delta of a river of blood and 
wondering why, I watched the sun strike 
the black wall of the Vietnam Memorial, 
transforming it into a mirror reflecting 
those of us who are still alive. We e.xist, we 
visit, we become one with the memorial. 
The mirror makes us face ourselves and 
gives us back to ourselves. It integrates us 
into the tragedy. 

When we walk away, so do our reflec- 
tions. But the wall stays, and so do the 
names. Those ot us who came home from 
Vietnam feel a deep sense of obligation to 
those who didn't. What can we do? We 
can do everything possible to prevent 
such a war from happening again. How? 
By supporting principles of conflict reso- 
lution without war. By keeping chauvin- 
ism and competition in the economic and 
athletic arenas and oft" the battlefield. By 
maintaining hope that there will be 
progress and that the cycle of war, peace, 
and grief will end, once and for all. 

When I walked away from the wall an 
hour later, I took my reflection and my 
reflections with me. I left behind a big 
part of my soul and as much hope as I'm 
capable of c>^ 

Fclloir Hmcrilii< Aiigiisliis A. White III is pro- 
fessor oforlhopeiiii siirf^ery al Harvard Medical 
School tiiid loriuer orthopedic suri;eoii-iii-chiel 
at Boston's Beth Israel Deaconess Medical 
Center. He received a Bronze Star for his ser- 
vice in I ielnani. 

80 • M A Y / I u N H I 9 9 ,S 

A Salute to Brown Olympians 

1998 Gold Medal Winners 
Katie King '97 (R) and Tara 
Moimsey '01 continue 
Brown's Olympic tradition. 
Brown has had 44 participants 
in the last century of Olympic 
competition. In just the last 
Pa'O years. Brown has 
produced 15 Olympians and 
5 medal winners. 

The Brown Sports foundation 

'Foetering Excellence in Athletics and a Winning Spirit at 3rown' 

A Total Athletic Endowment of $33,000,000 

7^ Raising $1,500,000 a year in additional Endowment Funds 

■A Raising $1,250,000 a year in Annual Use Funds for our 
35 Varsity and 5 Club Sports 

ik Raising Funds for the Continual Improvement of Intramural and University 
Fitness Programs and Facilities for the entire Brown Community 

You can help us achieve these worthwhile goals 
with your financial support. 

The Brown S ports Founda tion Ex ecutive Com m j ILee 

Gordon Perry "55 (President) • Liz Chace '59 (Vice-President) • Bob Hall '66 (Treasurer) • Bernle Buonanno '60 (Secretary) 

Paula Murray McNamara '84 (Asst. Treasurer) • Dick Carolan '58 (President Emeritus) • Dave Zuceoni '55 (Executive Director) 

Marcia Hooper '77 (Director) • Kevin Mundt '76 (Director) • Marc Bergschneider '73 (Director) • Rich Gouse '68 (Director) 

Artemis Joukowskv '55 (Chairman Emeritus) 

Box 1925 • ProYulencc. R.I. 02912 • (401)^63-1900 • Fax (401) S(^3-369l • e-mail: David _Zmci>ni(ahro\Mi.edii 

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